


Mass Effect: Generations

by razorblade456



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Hybrids, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/razorblade456/pseuds/razorblade456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After saving the universe from the reapers, Shepard and her crew crash land on a mysterious planet. While doing their best to survive, they continue to face the ramifications and adjust to Shepard’s choice that changed them all. One joyous byproduct of synthesis is Garrus and Shepard’s daughter, Lola.</p><p>Knowing no other life, Lola flourishes in the small community that is the Normandy crew, but when an Alliance cruiser finds the stranded crew and helps them back to earth, she discovers how truly unique she is. Lola grows up in what is the rebuilding of Earth (which is now home to many different species since so many were stranded in the Sol system) and the reconstruction of the Citadel and the council. Now eighteen, she carves her own path in the Alliance Navy overshadowed by her war hero parents, her biotics, and life as a hybrid post reaper invasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Changes to cannon are as follows:  
> 1) Shepard lives after choosing the synthesis ending. I do explain how.  
> 2) Due to synthesis, a child is possible between Garrus and Jane Shepard. Again, I do my best to make this sound plausible.  
> 3) The Normandy crew requires assistance to escape the planet they crash landed on.  
> 4) I will be using the real US military ranking for Navy and Marines, instead of the weird as hell one that Bioware made up based on the US ranking system ([ link](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_fictional_military_ranks) ) Because of this, Shepard and Vega are Alliance Navy (figure the N7 program can be similar to the Navy Seals) and Alenko is Alliance Marines. Also, I'm head cannoning that Shepard received a promotion to Commander (instead of staying Lieutenant Commander) when she saved the Citadel at the end of ME1.
> 
> The narration will switch between Lola and Shepard. Each chapter is written in first person, present tense, because essentially that’s what it’s like to play the game.

**Lola  
May 2205**

 

“Lola Shepard Vakarian, out here. Now!” My mother shouts from the living room. _Full name. I’m in trouble._

I walk out of my room to find my mother is still in her armor, her pistol strapped to her hip. The afternoon sun beams on her back through the windows, casting her figure in dark ominous shadows. She crosses her arms over her chest, her mouth nothing but a straight line. _She is really mad._

“Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

“Your classmate, whom they had to help down from the rafters of your school.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. I just had a long meeting with your principal talking her out of expelling you this close to graduation. Lola, what were you thinking using your biotics on another student?”

I sit down on our black leather couch and stare at my feet, noticing that despite their shine, my boots are worn and need to be replaced. I hate getting new shoes. They have to be specially made by a quarian armor shop on the Citadel. Having only two toes, I can’t keep my balance in human shoes, not that they are easy to find in my size, and my calves are too small for turian boots. Plus the whole, I stand on all of my foot and not just the balls of them.

I’m still dressed in my Grissom Academy uniform, which looks essentially like an Alliance recruit uniform. I nervously play with the button on my left sleeve. “I don’t know,” I mumble.

“You don’t know? You didn’t accidentally put that boy in a stasis bubble and lift him into the rafters. His voice was hoarse by the time the stasis wore off and anyone could hear his screams for help.” She paces back and forth in front of me, the sun casting her profile on the floor. My mother isn’t very tall at only 5’ 5”, but in her armor she tends to look larger than life. “When your father gets home, he and I will discuss your punishment. Needless to say you are grounded. No hanging out with Neota, no surfing the extranet, just school and homework.”

“That’s not fair!” Anger washes through me, and the words are out before I can catch them. “You have no idea what’s it like to be your daughter. Do you know what they call me, not only behind my back, but to my face? Hybrid freak! They say I should be a test subject in a lab somewhere, not out walking around with normal people. That the only reason I’m allowed in a human school is because you’re my mother! Twelve years at that school and I’m still an outsider, still a freak!”

Her pale face turns to stone, and her biotics glow around her in cold fury. “This has been going on the entire time?”

“Not, uh, the entire time,” I sniffle, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “Just off and on. It didn’t get really bad until about four years ago.” 

I leave out that it got “really bad” when I had my face tattooed, marking me turian. It was a tense argument between my parents. We were visiting Palaven for the first time after the war. Turian tattoos are supposed to be representative of the colony a turian comes from, but only someone that can’t be trusted is a “bareface.” I think my dad wanted everyone to know that he claimed me as his and that I was as much turian as anyone else on Palaven. My mother felt I shouldn’t have to change myself just so strangers wouldn’t look down their noses at me. Ultimately, they left the decision up to me, and despite what I have to put up with at school, I don’t regret it. With this mark I feel in some small way that I belong somewhere, that I am a real part of something. All turians go through this ritual, and by having this tattoo, I am Turian.

The Vakarian family’s tattoo is a strip of dark blue that runs across my nose and cheeks, forking up my lowest fringe and down along my mandibles, or the closest I have to a mandibles. I have a mouth and jaw line similar to humans, but as if turian mandibles were fused to my jaw bone, portions of my “mandibles” bracket my chin and poke out past my jaw, wrapping around my head. It’s a nightmare to brush my hair around the whole mess.

“Four years?!” Her green eyes open so wide I can see white all around the iris. “Why didn’t you tell me or your father?”

“They’re right. I am a freak.” I can’t look her in the eye, so I mumble down at the hard wood floor. “I didn’t want my war hero parents swooping in to make the mean kids be nice to me. I can fight my own battles.”

“Apparently.” She collapses on the couch next to me and pulls me into her arms. Her armor digs into my skin, but I don’t mind. She speaks into my hair, which is the same burnt red as her own, “Sweetheart, I wish you trusted us with this. To know that this has been going on for so long…”

“I do trust you and Dad, it’s just…” I sigh. “No matter where I am, I’m always going to be different. Even with other hybrids, I’m still the biotic with two famous parents. I can’t come crying to you two every time something happens. I have to deal with it myself.”

“Shepard, what happened? Is everything okay?” My father interrupts, as he walks through the front door. He is dressed in his blue and black armor indicative of his position. “I caught a shuttle as fast as I could.”

Both my parents, my mother as a Spectre and my father as the Executor of C-SEC, work on the newly built Citadel that orbits Earth. However, we live planet side in one of the nicer skyscrapers in downtown London because that is where Grissom Academy was rebuilt after the war.

“Your message said there was trouble at Grissom, but…” He looks down at my mother and me curled up on the couch, taking inventory of my watery blue eyes and my mother’s stern expression. “Lola, are you okay?” He sits down on the coffee table across from us, his knees bumping mine.

“Your daughter taught a bully a lesson that I doubt he’ll be forgetting anytime soon.”

“Oh?” he looks at me, his mandibles shifting in surprise.

“I, uh,” I clear my throat. “There was this guy at school. He cornered me after class when everyone was gone, and said, well, some things that made me really angry. I tried to walk away. Really I did, but he wouldn’t let me go, so I uh…”

My mother nudges me. “Go on.”

“I put a stasis bubble around him and trapped him on one of the beams in the rafters of the classroom,” I say so fast the words collide together.

He nods. I’m afraid he’s going to be furious like my mother, and I’ll have to tell him the awful things they call me. But then he smiles, his teeth visible past his mandibles. “That’s my girl.”

“Garrus,” my mother half laughs and half groans, “we are supposed to be teaching our daughter that violence isn’t the answer. Particularly, using her biotics against other students at school.”

“Did he deserve it?”

I nod. I feel so relieved that I flop into my mother’s side. 

“From what Lola has told me, I get the impression the kid deserved it,” she responds, squeezing my shoulder in a side hug, which feels a little like being hugged by a rock.

“Is the kid permanently hurt in any way?”

“No,” she sighs. “He might have trouble speaking tomorrow. Apparently, he was up there for over an hour, and no one could hear him through the stasis bubble.”

He laughs. “An entire hour? You have to admit, Shepard, that’s really impressive.” He squeezes my knee. Yes, my father calls my mother by her last name. They have been together for nearly twenty years, and I can count on my hands how many times he has called her Jane (and altogether, I only have six fingers.) I asked why once, and he shrugged and said simply, “that’s her name.”

“How did you get it to last so long without refreshing it?” My mother asks, and I can tell she is legitimately impressed.

“Well, Neota and I figured out how to make a stasis field absorb any biotics used against it. The more he used his biotics to escape, the stronger he made it.”

“So if he quit struggling?” she asks.

“The stasis wouldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes.”

It’s my mother’s turn to laugh. “You’ll have to teach me that trick.” 

She shifts and pulls her pistol from her hip and sets it on the table, and then with one of her arms still around me, she unsnaps her boots, slides them off, and stands them next to the couch. Her armor is a deep cherry color that looks black except under certain kinds of light. She sighs with relief, pointing and flexing her toes. When she rests her feet on the coffee table, my dad pulls on her big toe.

“You’re welcome to rub them,” she mutters.

He laughs. “Tonight, I promise to rub whatever you want me to.”

“Oh, gross. Sitting right here!” I exclaim.

They both laugh, my mother’s warm alto mixing with my father’s gravely tenor. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that my parents have managed to stay in love for twenty years, but come on, they’re in their fifties and show more PDA than kids at school.

“Do we need to talk to the school?” My father asks, now serious.

“I already did. Using biotics on another student is normally an automatic expulsion, but I talked her into a three day suspension and detention for the rest of the semester,” my mother answers, rubbing the spot between her auburn brows.

“Detention for the rest of the semester?” I jerk out of my mother’s arms and look at her. “That’s an entire month!”

“At least you’re graduating, young lady.” The stern look is back on her face. “I’m not in any way condoning what he did, but the fact of the matter is, you should have told someone what was going on instead of taking it into your own hands. Now the only thing on record is you using your biotics on him.”

“Shepard, she didn’t hurt the kid.” My father gets up and sits next to me on the couch, sandwiching me between him and my mom and blocking any room for a storming off escape. “She actually did an impressive job to not hurt him. Is there anything we can do to lighten the sentence?”

“It was that reasoning that saved her from expulsion,” she sighs again. “I understand where they’re coming from. They can’t seem lenient on this in any way, or next time, both parties might not come out so lucky.”

“So I’m the sacrificial lamb in the name of safety.”

She rolls her eyes. “Hardly.”

“Am I still grounded?” I ask.

She lets me sweat for a moment. “You understand why this is so serious, right?”

“Yes, Mom.” I try to look as pitiful as possible.

“And you will report any more bullying to either Jack or Ms. Sanders?”

“Mom,” I whine.

“I’m not kidding, Lola. I understand you want to handle this yourself, but in the end, you are the one paying for it, not him.” My parents pass meaningful looks to each other, and I can tell there is going to be a much more in-depth discussion between them. _Oh spirits, they’re going to go to the school. They may even talk to Jonah._ And by talk to, really means, intimidate the crap out of. That would be very, very bad.

“I promise, only if you two don’t get involved.”

“Get involved? Who said anything about us getting involved?” My father says, looking at my mother. 

She smiles.

My parents are merely nerve-wracking to meet on a good day. My mother has stared down reapers. My father had every mercenary gang on Omega working together to try and kill him. They have saved the universe _three times!_ No, if they talked to Jonah, it would do more than just stop the bullying. No one would come near me, and if they had to talk to me, it would be that sickly sweet polite. I would be a whole new kind of leper. The only reason anyone talks to me now is that I have worked very hard to make sure my parents are never involved and that they stay far, far away from Grissom Academy.

“I mean it. I know you want to protect me, but I’m eighteen now. I’m not your little girl anymore. I promise to report any more harassment and I’ll carry out my sentence without complaint, only if you promise to stay out of it.” I look back and forth between their faces. My mother’s brows are furrowed and my dad is quiet. My parents are protectors. Its goes against the grain of who they are not to get involved, which is why I didn’t tell them what was going on in the first place.

“Alright, sweetheart,” my father says finally, “we promise to let you handle this your own way. But for the record, you will always be our little girl.” He hugs me and places his forehead to mine. When he lets me go, my parents agree that I’m not grounded.

“Thank you!” I squeal and hug them both. “I have to go tell Neota the good news.”

I race back to my room before their sentimentality wears off and they reconsider the whole not grounding me. First thing I do is plop down in front of my desk to message Neota. Within seconds of my call, her face appears on my screen.

“So what happened? Did it work?” She asks excitedly, practically bouncing out of her chair. Then in whispered concern, she adds, “Are you grounded?”

I love that it doesn’t occur to her that my punishment could be any worse than being grounded. Neota is an asari and my best friend. We met after one of my Aunt Liara’s lectures three years ago. Neota was six when the reapers invaded. Her mother was a commando and her father was a soldier in the alliance military, both were called to serve when the invasion started and died in the final battle on earth. Now, she lives with her grandmother in the asari district. I’m always leery when people try to be my friend, because rarely it’s for me. Neota was honest that she found my family fascinating, but not for the reasons normal people do. She didn’t want to know my parents because they’re famous; she wanted to know them because they gave her glimmers at what her own parents might have been like. 

“It worked perfectly, and I’m also not expelled, thanks for asking.” I laugh.

“Why would they expel you? The stasis wouldn’t have hurt him, unless the warp field was too strong, but then the stasis would have collapsed in seconds. Either way, no real damage.” She quirks up her left brow, furrowing portions of her florescent pink markings that glow against her dark blue skin.

“Apparently, the principal didn’t see it that way. My mom was able to talk her out of expelling me, but I’m suspended for three days and I have detention for the rest of the year.”

“The great Commander Shepard swooping in to protect her daughter from an unjust punishment,” she says dreamily.

“You know she’s a Captain now, right?”

“I know, but it doesn’t have the same ring to it.” She sighs, resting her head on her upturned hands. “I still can’t believe she would be an Admiral by now if she didn’t turn down all those promotions.”

“You should have seen the arm twisting to get her to accept Captain. It took Admiral Hackett and my grandmother to convince her, using some good-for-humanity’s-moral speech. I think she hates the idea that she might end up promoted right out of the field, Spectre or not.”

“But isn’t your mom getting kind of old, for a human I mean?” Tact is not one of Neota’s strong suits.

“Whatever you do, _do not_ say that to my mother,” I gasp. “I think her head might pop off. She does a ridiculous amount of exercise to stay prepped for the field. I’m pretty sure they’ll have to actually chain her to a desk to get her behind one.”

Neota giggles. “So have you told them your plan after graduation?” She asks, in her normal unassuming way.

“No,” I grumble. “I don’t know how they’ll react.”

“I’m sure they’ll be really proud you want to serve in the Alliance.” Neota has a bit of a rose-colored view when it comes to my parents. 

“Or they’ll be their normal overprotective selves and try to talk me out of it.” I sigh. “I’m thinking I may just enlist and tell them after the fact.”

“I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be happy about that. You should tell them. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“My parents use their connections to black-list me so no recruiter will take me.”

“Now you’re being silly. Goddess, I’m so jealous that you get to branch out on your own so young. You’ll probably be old and grey by the time I’m allowed to live on my own,” she huffs.

“Oh, boo-hoo, _I live for over a thousand years and have to spend the first sixty years of it with my family._ I’m crying rivers, really.”

She sticks her tongue out at me. 

“Anyway, I have homework. I just wanted to let you know that the stasis worked and that I’m not grounded.”

“Yay!” She claps her hands together. Neota pretty much emotes all of her thoughts. “So do you want to meet up after class tomorrow?”

“Still suspended, Neota.”

“Oh, that’s right. So unfair,” she sympathizes. “But that means you’re free, right?”

“I’m pretty sure suspended from school also means not leaving the house.”

She pouts. “Maybe I can come over there? We can watch vids and make, what is it called…that human dish made from corn?”

“Popcorn?”

“That’s the one!”

“I’ll ask,” I laugh. “Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Lola,” she says, waggling her fingers at the screen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Shepard  
December 2186**

The room is dark when I open my eyes except for a dull red glow. _Emergency lights?_ I’m laying down on a hard elevated surface, and up above me, I can see metal and the shadows of a ship bulkhead, rivet bumps along perfectly straight lines. But there isn’t any hum of an engine. _Docked ship?_ I’m encased in proper bedding: pillow, sheets, and blanket, which means I have been here awhile. No one would bother for a few hours. My head swims when I attempt to look around me. Kadian is slouched in a chair to my right, his chin resting against his chest in sleep. His black hair sticks out in odd tuffs, and his cheeks show signs of several days’ worth of growth. _Bedside vigil._ Not a good sign. Past him, I see a hatch I would know anywhere, the AI core for the Normandy. _How did I get on the Normandy?_

To my left, Garrus is hunched over, asleep, his head resting on the bed near my hip. He’s out of his armor, instead dressed in wrinkled blue civies with gold trim. From what I can tell, I’m the only patient in the medbay. My body feels sore and dense, sluggish in responding to my brain. I turn my focus back to the red glow of the lights and wait for the room to stop spinning.

“Garrus,” I choke out, but my throat feels like sand paper and his name only comes out a whisper. I crawl my fingers toward him, my arm too heavy to lift. I trace his face like brail; it’s too difficult to move my head again. My fingers follow the familiar planes of his face, starting from the hardline of his brow, to the lower ridges of his fringe, stopping at the side of his face where his scar should be but is instead smooth.

He stirs at my touch. He has always been a light sleeper. His hand encircles mine and he whispers my name, his voice heavier from sleep.

“Garrus,” I try again and squeeze his hand.

He jolts awake. “Shepard,” he cries loud enough Kaidan nearly fumbles out of his chair. “You’re awake.”

I nod and groan, the medbay swaying beneath me. Garrus runs his hand along my hair line, his hand cool against my skin. _No gloves._ My eyes slide closed, and I mentally beg the room to stop spinning.

“Oh, no you don’t, Shepard,” he says, clutching both my arms. “You have to stay awake.”

“I’m awake,” I mutter. “Room…won’t stop…spinning.”

“I’ll go get EDI and Dr. Chakwas,” Kadian says while rising from his chair, the seat creaking as he moves. He squeezes my hand. “Good to see you awake. You really need to stop scaring the hell out of us like this.”

Garrus sits on the bed beside me, and I open my eyes. He braces himself so that he is in my direct line of vision, his face cast in hard relief by the emergency lights. His tattoo is broken and in splotches on the right side of his face, strange now that his scaring is gone.

“What happened?” I croak.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He traces the bones across the back of my hand with his thumb. His talon, longer than normal, skates across my skin. “Shepard, what did you do?”

“The Crucible. Did it work?” I cough. 

He looks at my face, his eyes skirting mine. “We don’t know.”

I’m quiet for a moment. _It had to work._ “How am I here?”

“I wasn’t going to let you go it alone. Not this time.” He holds my hand in his. “When you opened the Citadel…we came as fast as we could, but you had already…”

“But your injuries?”

“It’s amazing what medi-gel and pain killers can do. Shepard,…”

The lights in the medbay blink on and I’m momentarily blinded. “Too bright.”

“I am sorry, Shepard.” EDI says and then the lights dim to a more manageable level. “It is good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“We better close off the medbay, or the entire crew will be in here shortly,” Dr. Chakwas announces when she enters. “Kadian, close off the windows. As much as I’m sure the Commander wants to see everyone, probably best not the whole lot of them at once through the windows, yes?”

“Right away, Doctor.”

Dr. Chakwas leans into my field of vision, her omni-tool out and taking readings. She appears to have come straight from bed, wrapped tightly in her robe. “Yes, how are you feeling, Shepard?”

“Dizzy. Sore. Thirsty.” It’s too hard to speak in complete sentences.

“I’ll get her some water,” Garrus says and hops off the bed.

“Ice chips are probably best,” Dr. Chakwas counters. “I imagine it is difficult for the Commander to swallow right now. Could you both give us a moment?” She motions for Kadian to follow Garrus out.

“EDI gather some pillows from that cargo hold and then help me get Shepard into a reclined position.” She gives me a quick squeeze on the arm. “Sorry, Commander, the medbay wasn’t really designed for long term residents.”

Between the two of them, I’m now more or less sitting up and can see the room better without having to move my head. The windows that look out into the mess now have metal shielding covering them. Below, the doctor’s desk is littered with data pads and what looks like different foliage samples. 

“What happened?” I ask again.

“Please make a more specific query,” EDI responds, walking up beside me.

“To you, the Normandy, or the war?” Dr. Chakwas chimes in.

“Pick one.”

“Well, simply put, Shepard, you died…again. If it wasn’t for Garrus’s stubbornness and EDI’s knowledge of the Lazarus project, you would still be dead.” Dr. Chakwas sighs. Her silver hair is disheveled and she has purple smudges under her eyes. “As for the Normandy, we crashed on some unknown planet after you set off the crucible. The blast wave knocked out the engines, and we don’t have enough eezo to start up the mass effect drive. For the time being, we’re stuck here. As for the war, we have no idea. Communication is offline as well.”

“How long have I been out?”

“Six weeks, Shepard,” EDI answers.

“Beats two years, I suppose.” I laugh and then cough.

The door beeps, announcing someone wishes to enter.

“It starts,” Dr. Chakwas says, walking to the door. “Now, Shepard, if it gets to be too much, don’t hesitate to say something.”

Behind the door, Garrus stands with my chipped ice and a crowd has formed behind him. They file in one by one, making a semi-circle around me. Liara and Cortez’s eyes are red-rimmed and watery.

“Since’ you’re all up. Report.” I cough again, and Garrus hands me the cup of ice before sitting in the chair beside me. I slip one of the slivers into my mouth, the ice instantly soothing to my raw throat.

Dr. Chakwas attempts to continue her scans, which keeps everyone else at a distance.

“Come back from the dead and it’s straight to business, huh, Commander?” Vega jokes, crossing his muscled arms and leaning against Dr. Chakwas desk. 

“It loses some of the allure the second time around, Lieutenant,” I chuckle.

Many of them sniffle and laugh.

“Now what is this I hear about us stuck in the water, so to speak.”

“When we were caught by the blast wave of the Crucible, it drained our drive core.” Tali wrings her hands, her voice muffled by her faceplate. “We just don’t have the eezo to start it back up again.”

“Any on the planet we can harvest?” I try to shift into a more comfortable position, but my body doesn’t cooperate, my limbs are like dead weights. _At least I can feel them._

“So far we have not found any,” EDI answers, “but our scans have been limited due to much of the Normandy’s systems being offline. Would you like assistance, Shepard?”

“No, I’m fine.” More fidgeting. “Call for help?”

“Emergency beacons have been deployed, but unless anyone is in the system, they won’t be able to hear us,” Traynor reports, her British accent clipping the consonances. She is dressed in her night clothes, a blue tank top and shorts, and a white terry clothed robe cinched at the waist. Her curled hand covers a yawn. “Sorry, Commander. All other forms of communication are down.”

“Where are we, anyway?”

Liara runs a knuckle under each eye to catch any wayward tears from shedding. “As far as we can tell, we are in an undiscovered system near Sol.”

“So less likely for someone to stumble onto us.” I chew on another sliver of ice.

“Can we just hold on for a second?” Cortez interrupts, raising his hands into the air. “Shepard has just come back from the dead and we’re acting like that isn’t a big deal.”

“She does that.” Garrus says simply.

“I got better,” I joke. “I thought we covered this, Lieutenant.”

“Though, if she could make this her last—is it a near death experience if she actually died?” Kadian asks.

“She nearly stayed dead,” Vega answers, “so I’ll call it a near death experience.”

“Either way, if this could be your last time, Shepard, we would appreciate it,” Kadian finishes. He slides his chair out around EDI and sits down, finger combing his hair back.

Cortez groans, rubbing the space between his brows. “You’re all crazy,” he mutters.

“Just figuring this out, Estaban?” Vega laughs and slaps Cortez on the back.

“Did I miss anything?” Joker asks, walking into the room. He stands tall, with no signs of limping or pain in movement.

“Joker, you’re…”

“Cured?” He joins the semi-circle, situating himself on the other side of Vega. “Yeah, the funniest thing happened. We all get blasted by this weird green light and then everyone’s injuries rapidly healed. Then scars started healing on their own. Finally, I’m able to move as if nothing has ever been wrong with me. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Commander?”

“I believe we are all curious to find out what happened,” Jarvik says in his normal deadpan tone. He crosses his arms over his chest, and the light splinters off of his ink black armor.

“I know, let’s start with how we all now have synthetic components to our DNA.” Joker also crosses his arms. His mouth is one solid seam, almost completely lost in his beard.

“Joker, the Commander just turned it on,” Kadian defends. He looks haggard, and I wonder how much of the past six weeks he has spent at my bedside. “She didn’t know what it was going to do any more than the rest of us.”

“That’s not true,” I say quietly.

“What? How?” Liara asks, her blue eyes wide open in shock. She shakes her head and runs her fingers along her temples. “Regardless, the crucible was our only weapon. Knowing this was a side-effect doesn’t matter. It was the only way we could stop the reapers.”

“That’s not true, either” I sigh. I feel weighted to the floor, and this time, I know it has nothing to do with my unresponsive body. “This was the best answer, but not the only one.” 

A mixture of shock, confusion, and the beginnings of anger wash over my crew’s faces. Except for Garrus. His face shows no sign of judgment. He takes my left hand and holds it between his own.

“You should probably start from the beginning, Commander,” Kadian says, now crossing his arms. 

“I saw it.” I clear my throat. “I saw the original AI. The creator and leader of the reapers. It was on the Citadel the whole time. He was the catalyst.”

The room is silent, filled with only the ringing in my ears.

“He told me that I could use the Crucible to destroy the reapers, but it wouldn’t only destroy them. All synthetics would be destroyed. EDI. The Geth. And who knows what it would have done to the species that relies on synthetic technology. The Quarians?” I look from EDI to Tali, before shifting my gaze to look every member of my crew in the eye. Most of their faces soften, but Jarvik’s hardens, all four of his eyes closing to slits.

“Oh, Shepard,” Tali whispers.

“Or, I could choose to make the final evolutionary leap for all organic life. Using my DNA, the crucible would bridge the gap between organics and synthetics. Organics would now be part synthetic and synthetics would fully understand organics. The reapers would no longer have a reason to destroy us.”

“Which is why we found you covered in chemical burns and almost every bone in your body broken?” There is an edge of steal to Garrus’s voice, the first sign of any judgment against my choice.

“You should have destroyed them,” Jarvik spits. “Now, you have turned us all into monsters and left the reapers free of punishment for their crimes.” He stalks out of the room, rage trailing behind him.

Everyone is quiet, no one sure what to say. They all fidget, clutching themselves and casting their eyes around the room.

EDI is the first to speak. “Thank you for saving us…for saving me.”

Joker gets up and pulls EDI into his arms. “Hey, I like being able to walk. And as you can tell, as long as they aren’t trying to kill me, I have no problem with synthetics. So, uh, thanks for saving the universe, Commander.”

“Anytime, Joker.”

Everyone comes back to life, tucking what I said away to process later.

“I believe that’s enough for tonight,” Dr. Chakwas interjects. “Everyone should try and get a little more sleep, and you can all visit more with the Commander in the morning.”

All but Garrus and Dr. Chakwas shuffle out of the room. Each touching me in some way before they go.

“So how am I, Doc?” I ask once everyone has left the room.

“From what I can tell, you are fully healed.” She gives me a tight lipped good news/ bad news smile. “Much of your muscle had to be regrown, so it will require a lot of physical therapy to get you back to your normal self. You will have to take it slow, Commander. Right now, you are too weak to even walk under your own power.”

“I guess it’s a small price to be brought back from the dead a second time.” I try to joke, but it comes out a little flat.

“Does she have to continue to stay in the medbay, Doctor?” Garrus asks, rising from his chair.

“No. We had her here for observation while she was unconscious, but I imagine she will be much more comfortable in her own bed.” She steps back and closes her omni-tool.

Garrus lifts me from the bed, blanket still wrapped around me. My left arm pinned against his chest, I lean into him and use my other hand to grab onto his shoulder. 

“Good night, Dr. Chakwas,” he says before carrying me out of the medbay and to the elevator. He elbows the button to summon the elevator.

“You want to talk about it?” I ask, looking up at him.

“Not right now,” he answers, entering when the door swooshes open. “Right now, I want to be happy that you are alive and awake.”

Once we are to my cabin, he sets me down on the couch for a moment so that he can pull back the blankets, and then he gently places me on the bed as if he is afraid I’ll break.

“Garrus,” I stay his hand as he attempts to tuck me in. “There’s more.”

“Shepard…”

“I could have also controlled the reapers.”

“That’s insane,” he brushes away my hand so he can continue to tuck me in. “No one could control the reapers. You told the Illusive Man that yourself.”

I grab his wrist. “The AI said that I was different, but…”

“But…” He stops moving and looks at me, his blue eyes looking straight into my own.

“I was afraid.” I look up at the open ceiling of my cabin, now covered in huge palm branches surrounded in pink morning light instead of the normal speckling of stars. “He said though my body would be gone, my consciousness would live on forever and that the reapers would do as I commanded. I would remember everything. Who I was, everyone I loved,” I look back to him, my throat restricting with emotion, “but I didn’t want to live forever. Alone.” Shame seeps through me. “I chose to fundamentally alter all organic life in the universe, because I couldn’t handle existing alone.”

“Shepard, I don’t care,” he answers bluntly.

“What?”

“If what you say is true, then the war is over and you saved everyone you possibly could.” His mandibles flex out then in. “And you’re alive and here with me. That’s all I care about.” He leans into my hand when I reach to touch his face. 

“If not this, then what is bothering you?”

He sighs and covers my hand with his. “You left me behind, Shepard, and it seems every time you do that, you die or nearly die. The Normandy, Leviathan, shooting a meteor into a mass relay to stop a reaper invasion, and now this. I know everything you did was in the name of saving the universe, but I meant what I said back on earth, Shepard. It'd be an awfully empty galaxy without you. You aren’t the only one that doesn’t want to live alone.”

“There’s no Shepard without Vakarian,” I whisper.

“And don’t you forget it,” he whispers back and kisses me. He lingers, his forehead pressed against mine.

“Hey, Vakarian,” I murmur.

“Hmmm,” he hums back.

“Thanks for pulling my ass out of the fire again.”

He laughs. “Anytime, Shepard. Anytime.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Lola  
May 2205**

It’s been a week since I have been back to school, and every day I have resisted the urge to rearrange Jonah’s face. Just as my mother said, Jonah was given no form of punishment, because there’s no record of him doing anything wrong. There was, however, a long school assembly on the dangers of using our biotics on each other outside of school exercises. The fact that the rules were bent to keep me in school has spread throughout the student body. Everyone neglects that I have put in three times the amount of years at this academy than the rest of them and instead chalks it up to entitlement because of my mother.

Admittance to Grissom Academy requires that the student first have permanent biotic inclination and be outfitted with a biotic implant. Usually, this doesn’t occur in humans until sometime around puberty or later. My mother didn’t get her implant until she was seventeen. This means the average student at Grissom starts around thirteen or fourteen years old. I started at six.

I was assigned a private tutor for my general education and didn’t really interact with the other students except for my biotics training. Turns out fourteen-year-olds don’t want to befriend a six-year-old that can knock them on their asses with her biotics. Biotics classes at the academy are based on skill level, not age, so by the time I could join my peers in general education courses, I was the top ranked student in biotics at Grissom Academy. To the incoming students, I was a snob and to the senior class that I trained with, I was a show off. Add the fact I’m a hybrid and the famous Captain Shepard’s daughter, making friends seemed a hopeless goal, so I stopped trying. I instead became what everyone thought, distant with an air of superiority. 

At best, my classmates ignored me and at their worst, they would whisper their slurs behind my back. Then I came to school with my tattoo. It was interpreted being human wasn’t good enough for me anymore, and so I had decided to identify myself as turian. This gave license for open hatred. “Hybrid freak” was whispered with venom when I would pass. Anonymous notes that read “Go back to Palaven” showed up in my bag or stuffed in my locker. Jonah volunteered to be the leader of my torment, cornering me when no one is around to spew his hatred. He comes from a wealthy family and if not for me, would easily be top ranked at Grissom. Instead, every time we spar it is painfully evident that it will take him many years to get to my level. Instructors try to placate my peers by reminding them how long I have been training, and they try to use me as inspiration of where my peers will be one day with hard work. My classmates just hate me more for it.

Since my return, my classmates give me slit-eyed glares because instructors are keeping a very close watch on us, and Jonah has made it a ritual to stop by whatever classroom I’m cleaning, as per my punishment, to gloat and/or torment me. Most of it is the same fare, “hybrid freak got mommy to save her from getting expelled” or the simpler “you don’t belong here.” Should I report him? Probably. But I only have to last three weeks more and then it won’t matter, because after graduation, I’m going straight into basic training for the Alliance Navy. Now, I just have to convince a recruiter of that fact.

Neota pulls up in front of Grissom in her new Cision Gallant, painted a vibrant pink to match her asari markings. “Are you sure about this?” she asks when I climb into the car beside her.

“Positive,” I answer.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t tell your parents first,” she continues, pulling away from the curb. “I’m sure your mom could make the process much simpler.”

“My point exactly,” I argue. “I don’t want them taking me because I’m Captain Shepard’s daughter. They're going to take me, because I will be an asset to the Alliance.”

“Why can’t both be true?” She reasons. She weaves and zags through traffic in a way that leaves a chorus of horns behind us.

“Neota, I need to do this on my own.”

“Your recruiter is going to find out who you are,” she counters. “Which means your parents will find out.”

“I know. _I will tell them._ This Sunday at family dinner. My grandmother, grandfather, and Aunt Sol will be there.” I take a deep breath. “Hopefully, that means they won’t murder me on the spot.”

“This is a bad idea.” Her face scrunches up in real concern, but she doesn’t say anything more.

I’ve read every scrap of information I could find on regulations for admittance in the Alliance military, and there is nothing that bars hybrids from enlisting. Granted, I’m pretty sure I’m the first hybrid to make it to a legal age to enlist, so it probably hasn’t occurred to anyone to consider making regs one way or another about it. I pull out the data pad from my bag that holds all of my medical records, everything that proves I am healthy and at the genetic level, human. I clutch it to my chest and take in deep breaths, releasing them slowly in an effort to slow down my heartbeat. I have to be calm and collected, if I’m going to convince a recruiter to take me on. On paper, I’m a recruiter’s dream; in person, I’m a PR nightmare. Even as a Shepard, I’m still a hybrid, which, needless to say, is going to be a hotly debated issue when it goes public. _Please don’t let reporters find out before I tell my parents._

When I was younger, reporters use to hound our family, wanting every scrap of news they could get on the miraculous resurrection of the great Commander Shepard. She was assumed dead when the Crucible, along with the Citadel imploded on itself. Over ten years later, she is still an icon, but no one is nearly as interested in her family’s day to day coming and goings. At least that is what I’m hoping for when I enter the recruitment center.

The front of the building has floor to ceiling windows that let in the afternoon light. The lobby is a large open room with several rows of chrome metal chairs, many filled with potential recruits. Men and women in blue and gold Alliance uniforms scuttle about, ushering young people around cubicle walls to take down their information. On the walls are huge posters with Alliance legends assuring the viewer that the Alliance needs them and with the Alliance there are no limits. The largest and the one easiest to see from the street is, of course, a picture of my mother in full armor the day she was named the first human Spectre. _This is going to be harder than I thought._

I take a deep breath and march toward the front desk of the recruitment center. A guy in his late twenties is frantically typing while glancing between multiple data pads on his desk.

“Excuse me?” My words come out wobbled and difficult to hear over my heartbeat.

“Name?” he asks without looking up.

“Lola Vakarian.” I spell my last name out for him as he types it in.

“A recruiter will meet with you in a few minutes. You can sit…” he looks up and immediately grows pale.

 _Please don’t recognize me._ I do my best to summon my father’s stone-wall blank face, as if there is nothing out of the ordinary for a hybrid to be in an Alliance recruiting office. Of course, Neota chooses this time to walk inside. An asari here is going to turn heads. An asari dressed in skin tight, low riding pants, half a shirt, and pin-point heels draws stares. She gives me a little wave and then sits in an empty chair, crossing her legs and bouncing one foot. She smiles at the boys across from her and then commences studying her pink nails for chips.

“I’ll just go sit down,” I murmur and take a seat next to Neota.

She squeezes my hand over my death grip on the data pad sitting in my lap. “It’s all going to work out,” she assures me.

In less than five minutes, a woman with mahogany brown skin and jet black hair pulled tight on top of her head comes to collect me. I notice that she is here for me before the others that have been waiting longer.

“Ms. Vakarian, this way.” She turns and walks away, sure that I’ll follow.

Once we are seated at one of the many desks hidden behind white cubicle walls, she introduces herself as Petty Officer Mills.

She scrunches up her face in concentration. “Vakarian…where do I know that name?” She says it half to herself, and I’m unsure if it’s a rhetorical question.

“My dad, uh, works for C-SEC.” My heart goes into overdrive. “You probably heard his name in passing. Sometimes the news covers one of his cases.”

She shakes her head. “That must be it,” she mutters, and then she is straight to business, folding her hands over the white plastic desk. “May I be blunt, Ms. Vakarian?” 

“Sure.” I nod.

“Someone like yourself would be a very…” she chooses her words carefully, “unorthodox recruit for the Alliance.”

“Someone like myself?” I know what she means, but I want her to say it.

“Someone that isn’t fully human.” She stares me straight in the eye, eyebrows turned up slightly at the bridge of her nose. The look I was trying to make only a few minutes ago at the guy at the front desk.

“Petty Officer Mills,” I intentionally keep my words slow and steady, robbing them of any inflection, “are you familiar with the biology of hybrids?”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Not fully, no.”

“Hybrids take on the organic material of their mothers. The only contribution from the father’s DNA is from their synthetic components. This is how we can exist in the first place.” I turn on my data pad and scroll to the information that entails my genetic history. I take a shallow breath and hand the pad to her, my hand thankfully still. “My mother is human, so genetically speaking, so am I.”

I continue as she reads what I handed her. “I have thoroughly researched all regulations on enlistment for the Alliance, and nowhere are hybrids prohibited. Bottom line is the Alliance needs people like me. In less than a month, I’ll graduate top of my class from Grissom Academy. I have been fully trained in pistols, assault rifles, and can hit a target with a sniper rifle 3,000 meters away. I can recite alliance history and protocol in my sleep. Petty Officer, I challenge you to find a better candidate in this office than me.”

“You finished?” The dead pan stare is back.

I take in a deep breath and let it out. “Yes, I’m finished.”

“Practiced that one a lot, huh?” she chuckles. “What’s your citizen ID number?”

 _Crap._ “904-628-9232-4.”

I watch her face while she enters in the information, and I can tell when she reads my middle name and sees my mother’s name: Shepard. Her eyes go wide and her mouth makes a little “oh”. Her gaze tears from the screen to my face and then back. She sits up tall, her body language shifting from hard ass to something so warm and inviting the Consort’s Acolytes would be proud. “Can you give me just a moment, Lola?”

“Sure,” I say with a half-smile. I knew they would find out who I was; I just had hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. 

Petty Officer Mills speed walks to the glass office at the end of the line of cubicles. The officer inside waves her in and goes back to his reading, his fingers rubbing one of his temples. She leans down, and I know the minute my full name is uttered because his head snaps up and she points in my direction. He nods and stands, straightening out the day’s wrinkles from his uniform. 

A familiar, fake smile stretches across my face. The one I’ve worn a hundred times in front of the bright lights of reporter’s cameras. I rise when Petty Officer Mills and her superior return.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lola. May I call you, Lola?” he shakes my hand, encasing it with both of his. “I’m Lieutenant Waggs. Is your, uh, mother with you?” Waggs is not quite middle age, military trim, with short cropped hair giving way to a receding hairline. He seems full of an excess energy, his amber eyes bright and excited.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant Waggs.” My heart rattles in my chest, terrified as more people here learn who I am, the more likely the news is going to get wind of it. “My mother is working on a case right now, so she couldn’t be here.” I’m not completely lying, because I do vaguely remember her mentioning something to my father last night about a case. _Or was it the other way around?_

“Of course,” he frowns. “I imagine as a Spectre she is always working on some top secret mission or another. I am surprised that she would miss her daughter carrying on the family tradition.”

I don’t like the idea of him thinking ill of my mother, particularly, because of my lie. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

He nods.

I lean in as if he is my closest confidant. “The truth is,” I look into his eyes and then dart away, as I have seen Neota do a thousand times, “it’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?” His head quirks to the right, while his brows crowd together in confusion.

“Yes,” I swallow. _The trick to lying is wrapping it in truth._ “We’re having a big family dinner this Sunday, and I wanted to give them the good news of my enlistment. It’s one thing to say you’re planning to do it, and it’s another thing to actually do it, right?” 

There are so many holes in my logic that you could slap it on bread and call it Swiss cheese, but Waggs nods his head and grins. “I know what you mean exactly. Announcing you’re thinking about it isn’t really much of a surprise.”

I clutch his hand, and I’m afraid I’m laying it on too thick. “I knew you would understand.”

“Petty Officer Mills, I’ll handle the rest of Lola’s paperwork personally.”

“Yes, sir,” she nods.

Waggs motions towards his office and waits for me to walk ahead of him. My skin feels prickly, sensing all the curious looks as I walk by. He opens the door to his office for me, and I sit in one of the metal chairs opposite his desk, my back to the line of cubicles. Heat slowly fingers up my neck, and my ears won’t stop buzzing.

Waggs attempts to straighten his desk before keying up my enlistment paperwork.

“Lieutenant Waggs, sir?” My voice comes out a squeak. I clear my throat. “Is there any chance we could keep my enlistment between you and me? I don’t want my family finding out, you know, before I tell them.”

“Of course,” he smiles. He pulls up my information and squints at the screen. “It appears here that you have already taken the ASVAB and scored…a 92. That is very impressive.”

“Yes, well you can imagine with a family like mine…”

He laughs. “I imagine military tactics and protocol are written in your genes.” He stutters and coughs when he realizes his potential insult.

“Military life is definitely in my blood.” I smile and he relaxes.

“Will you be interested in officer training?” Now the pleasantries are over, he is straight to business.

“Yes.” I nod.

From that point, it is a quick process of filling out forms and signing my name. I am given a stack of waivers to sign, mostly around modifications to my uniform: boots, gloves, hat (because standard issue won’t fit over my fringe) and one for my tattoo, because they aren’t allowed to be visible outside my uniform. He lists religious reasons on the waiver. When we reach the end of my paperwork, his brows furrow. “Will you need a, uh, special physical? One with a doctor that is familiar with your, um, unique physiology?”

“Would Dr. Chakwas be okay as my physician? She is a military doctor and has been my doctor my entire life.”

He sighs in relief. “That should be fine. Make sure to have your physical within the week you depart for basic and bring the paperwork with you when you go through processing.” He hands me yet another waiver to sign.

“That’s it,” he says when I sign the last of the paperwork. “I’ll have these uploaded by the end of the day. Welcome to the Alliance, Ms. Vakarian.”

We stand, and I shake his hand. “Thank you, sir. Really.” This time, I give him a genuine smile.

By the time I make it back out to the lobby, everyone has given up pretending to do anything else but out right stare at Neota. When she sees me, she bounces out of her chair and hugs me. “You’d think they’d never seen an asari before,” she whispers in my ear.

“I don’t think that’s why they’re staring,” I laugh.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” she sulks, bracing her hands on her bare hips.

I roll my eyes. “Come on.”

“Alright,” she sighs, and her heels click out a cadence as she leaves.

 

~*~

 

“So good news?” She asks once we are headed towards my home.

“Mostly good news.” I fiddle with my sleeve. “I made it through my speech, and then she asked my citizen ID number and it was all over.”

“How bad was it?” Her voice drops in genuine sympathy.

I groan. “You should have seen the recruiter’s face when she first saw me. Like she swallowed a lemon and then my mother’s name popped up on the screen.” I rub my neck and lean back in my seat. “It was like, I don’t know, she got that look that everyone gets when they realize who I am. Excited and slightly panicked.”

Neota laughs, a sound that mostly vibrates at the back of her throat. “Well, it’s done, right?”

“Mostly done. I have to have a preliminary physical, and if that checks out, my tentative ship date is June 17th.”

“So soon?” Even in profile, I can see Neota’s face deflate in disappointment.

I pat her on the shoulder. “I told you it would be soon after graduation.”

“I know. It’s just that I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, but I’ll be sure to write and call as much as I can. Just think what great stories I’ll have to tell you once I’m out there.”

“I expect romance and intrigue,” she demands.

I choke. “Let’s settle for something more interesting than my desire to clobber Jonah Rozar.”

“It will happen, Lola. Just you wait,” she muses. “You will be out in the field, a badass biotic, and some cute guy won’t be able to take his eyes off of you. Watch out for him. He might end up so thunderstruck, he’ll pay too much attention to you and not enough to bullets flying.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” I say with so much sarcasm it’s practically dripping onto the floor.

“And I get every detail. Promise?” She throws a quick, meaningful glance my way. “I have to live vicariously through you.”

“Please, romance and intrigue follow you wherever you go.”

“Yes, but never in space.”

We laugh and she drops me off, making sure I promise to call her immediately after I break the news to my family. _Now, I just need to not die of nerves before Sunday._


	4. Chapter 4

**Shepard  
December 2186**

“Rise and shine, Lola.”

Cracking open one eye, I see Vega’s uniform clad legs and what appears to be a tray with breakfast. I also notice that I am alone in bed. Drawback of dating a turian, they only need a fraction of the amount of sleep that humans do.

“Lieutenant,” I mumble into my pillow, “I am still the CO of this ship, right?”

“Yes, Lola.” I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“And this is still my cabin?”

“Last time I checked.”

“Then what are you doing here? And it better start with, ‘Shepard, come quick’ and end with some form of major disaster.” I close my eyes.

“If it required you to do anything quickly, it really would be a disaster.” He laughs.

“Low blow,” I grumble and roll over. I feel substantially stronger than I did the night before and can pull myself up into a reclined position. I push my hair back behind my ears, noticing it is now several inches past my jaw. 

Vega places the tray on my lap. On the plate is scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon and beside it, a mug of black coffee. “You didn’t come up here just to bring me breakfast,” I state around the rim of the mug.

“Scars sent me up. He thought you would want your first physical therapy session away from the rest of the crew. Give me a chance to assess the damage.”

“And you’re the one in charge of my training?”

“Who else?” He smiles and sits in the reading chair near my bed, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle. 

“You may want to come up with a new nickname for Garrus, since Scars doesn’t really apply anymore.” 

“Yeah, I guess I will.” He sighs, fingering just off of the right bottom corner of his mouth, a spot that use to have a scar that bisected his lip and ran down and around his chin. Now, just like Garrus, the skin is smooth.

“Hard to get used to, huh?” I nod towards his hand.

“Hmmm?” he hums absentmindedly.

“Losing the scars. I remember when Cerberus brought me back and the last of my scars healed. I used to have a scar right here,” I point at my left brow and then make a sweeping motion across my face. “I got it on Akuze. A reminder everyday of what happened, who I lost and how lucky I was to make it out alive, and then it was just…gone. For weeks, I ran my finger along my eyebrow expecting to feel the familiar bump.”

“It seems wrong.” He points to his unmarred right cheek. “This I got on Fehl Prime when the collectors hit. This,” he rubs the spot next to his mouth, “was from going toe to toe with a krogan name Archuk. Mean SOB.”

“Even though you may not wear those moments on your skin anymore, they are still with you. The good and the bad.” I take a bite of eggs and change the subject. “Do you know how we are on rations?” I ask after swallowing.

He shifts in his chair, pulling his legs into right angles and bracing his elbows on his knees. “We have six months on non-perishables, which we can stretch to a year if we mix in local vegetation.”

“So the fauna on this planet is amino based? Have we found anything edible?”

“Yes, and mostly, yes.” He scratches behind his right ear. “We’ve been able to find a couple of plants that are edible and grow nearby, but because we have no immunities to the local bacteria and viruses, Dr. Chakwas has had to filter everything before we can eat it. She’s trying to synthesize vaccines, but it’s taking some time because there are so many. Right now, anything we take from the planet has to be quarian clean.”

I nod. “So what about our dextro supplies?” A flutter of panic quakes through my chest.

“In a few weeks, Sparks and Scars will be eating better than us, vegetation wise.” Vega laughs and shakes his head. “Turns out on our last shore-leave, Tali collected several varieties of dextro based plants and has been growing them in the cargo hold under engineering.”

“Good to know we won’t starve to death anytime soon.” I take a bite of bacon, enjoying the salty crunch.

“Savor that,” he nods toward my plate. “It’s the last of the bacon.”

It takes me a moment to remember that my crew has been surviving on this planet for six weeks while I lay comatose in the medical bay. _I really have to stop losing time like this._ I’m quiet for a moment before asking what I’m not sure I want the answer to. After Akuze, every death under my command feels like a failure in my judgment, and that if I was smarter, faster, better prepared in some way they would be alive. I think of all the people I’ve lost since then, their voices commingling as they do in my dreams. I look into my coffee cup when I ask, “What’s the status of the crew? Any casualties from the crash?”

“No casualties, Commander. Joker crashes almost as good as he flies,” he chuckles. “Nothing more than bruises and a couple broken bones which healed within a few days. Well, except for you, that is.”

I exhale in relief and continue eating. After I finish my breakfast, a real dilemma forms. I need to go through my morning routines: use the bathroom, shower, dress, and I only have Vega here to help me. 

As if reading my mind, Vega stands and asks, “Do you want me to get your clothes, or help you over so you can do it?”

When in command, I have to appear strong to those that report to me. I can be human to them. I can be flawed to them. But I can’t be weak. I move the tray from my lap and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Vega moves to pick me up, but I motion him away. He steps back, crossing his arms; his white shirt pulled taunt over bulging muscles. The locker with my clothes is a few feet away, but they feel like miles. Each compartment has a latched lock to keep it from opening during more intense ship maneuvering, so unless I want to rip the whole thing out of the wall, my biotics are useless. I’m currently wearing the navy standard sleepwear of blue shorts and tank-top, and the cold from the floor shivers through my feet and up my bare legs.

I brace my hands on either side of me and push to stand up, but nothing happens, my ass feeling as if it’s made of lead. I try again, but it’s hopeless. I might be able to crawl, but I definitely won’t be able to stand under my own power.

“You don’t like asking for help, do you, Lola?” Vega says with real sympathy.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve asked for help many times,” I grunt and push again. Nothing. “I asked my crew to help me steal the old SR1 so that I could stop Saren and the geth. I asked complete strangers to go on a suicide mission to help me stop the Collectors. And, oh yeah, I asked every sentient species in the known galaxies to abandon their own planets to help me save Earth.” Annoyance is breeding into frustration as my body continues to not respond as I want it to. _I’m not asking to be able to run or take a krogan in hand to hand combat. I just want to stand up!_

Vega leans down, pulling one of my arms over his shoulder while wrapping one of his around my waist. He lifts me to my feet, and I fall heavily against him, my legs the equivalent to a newborn calf. “I mean,” he grunts, as he helps me across the room, “for yourself. I know you don’t have a problem asking for help on others’ behalf. You’re injured, Shepard. There’s no shame in that.”

“I’m painfully aware of that, Lieutenant,” I retort once we are to my locker. With Vega holding me up, I dig for a shirt, my N7 hoodie, and my work out pants. 

When I grab my underwear, Vega comments, “Black and lacy. Nice, Lola.”

“Put up or shut up,” I say through gritted teeth, because I’m already getting tired. I ask Vega to place the chair from my desk into the bathroom before helping me inside.

When he sets me down in the chair, he smirks. “You know if it’s all too much, I am more than willing to give you a sponge bath.”

“In your dreams,” I joke. 

He laughs with good humor. “Most definitely, Lola.”

“Set my clothes over on the shelves over there.” I motion to the far side of the bathroom, and he does as I ask. “Now out, so I can get ready.”

An odd look crosses his face before the sly smirk returns. “If you need anything,” he gives me an up and down, “and I mean anything, you let me know.”

“Out!”

He chuckles, and the bathroom door slides closed behind him.

I’ve learned to appreciate my biotics through the years, but I have never been truly grateful until right now. Thankfully, my biotics appear to not have suffered the same way my muscles have, and I’m able to turn the shower on and pull things I need to me. Through far more effort than I like, I’m able to shimmy out of my clothes. My chair is next to the toilet, so with too much effort and a little biotics, I’m able to shift myself over. Once finished, I crawl into the hot water of the shower. For a moment, I simply sit, letting the hot water drum on the top of my head. 

_Alright, Jane. This is the one and only time you are allowed to feel sorry for yourself._ I close my eyes and self-pity swirls around me. It crawls into my throat and I choke, refusing to let it go any further. It fingers at my eyes, and I grit my teeth. I sniffle. _That’s it. That’s all you get._

I take the rest and stuff it away, knowing that pity will get me nowhere. Extending my arms and legs, I examine what I have to work with. The first thing I notice is just how emaciated my limbs are now. Running my fingers along my bicep and around to my tricep, the muscle is soft and gives easily under pressure. _I won’t be beating Vega’s pull-up record anytime soon._ I flex my hands and feet, feeling the shift and pull of tendons and muscle. _At least it all works._

I finish showering, do my best to dry off and crawl to the other side of the bathroom. Using my biotics, I pull my clothes down from the shelf above and fumble into them. I brush my hair back and pull it into a ponytail. I don’t have enough strength to get back into the chair, so I call for Vega from the floor.

Without comment, he helps me to my feet and more carries me than walks me to the couch.

“This is going to get old fast,” I mutter.

“Then we better get to work.” 

While I was getting ready, he set up a mat and a few weights on the floor. He helps me down, and we go through different stretches and exercise I can do to help regain my strength. While figuring out what I’m still capable of doing, it turns out I haven’t lost my flexibility either.

“ _Ay, dios mio._ Lola, have you always been able to move like this?”

I laugh. With my legs outstretched in front of me, I bend over, nose to knees, and require Vega to pull on my hands to feel the stretch. I shift my head to the side. “It’s my biotics. All of that energy keeps me limber.”

“Shit,” he whistles. “Garrus is one lucky son of a bitch.”

After an hour, I’m exhausted but only slightly damp with sweat. My muscles feel sore and my limbs heavy. Outstretched on the floor, I close my eyes and sigh. “When I came back from the dead last time, the worst I had was a few scars that healed on their own. Hell, the first thing I did after waking up was escape a Cerberus facility while their mechs tried to kill me. Kind of ironic in retrospect.”

Vega laughs. “As much as this sucks, it beats being dead for two years…or forever.”

“That it does, Lieutenant.”

“Okay, Shepard. We’re done for the day, but Dr. Chakwas wanted to see you. Do you think you can handle the walk down?”

 _No._ “Yes. Help me up.”

 

~*~

 

I give up the ghost once Vega deposits me in the medbay and decide to recline on one of the beds instead of sitting up. Dr. Chakwas runs her omni-tool along the length of me, comparing her readings from last night to today. EDI sits at the doctor’s desk looking at culture samples from the planet’s plant life.

“How do you feel, Commander? Any lingering dizziness?”

“I seem to be tiring easily, but other that I feel pretty good.”

She furrows her brows. “I know it’s hard, Shepard, but even with your cybernetics, you’re still human and humans need time to heal. Considering what we started with, you’re a bloody miracle.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. Honestly, I don’t know how Garrus recognized you to save you.”

As if he sensed his name mentioned, Garrus breezes through the door dressed in his normal silver and blue armor. “How is she, Doctor?” he asks, sounding much more upbeat than the night before. He walks over next to me and squeezes my hand.

“Marked improvement in just the past few hours.” Her eyes crinkle at the corners when she smiles. “She may even be back to her old self earlier than I expected. I’m still finding it difficult to gauge how quickly our biosynthetic cells regenerate and what that means recovery wise. I feel like I’m going to need an engineering degree just to continue to practice medicine.”

“Doctor, I think I found something,” EDI interrupts, summoning Dr. Chakwas over.

I whisper once Dr. Chakwas is out of ear shot, “What’s the big idea sending James up this morning to help me get ready?”

“James?” He squints, the plates of his brow pulling down slightly. “I told him to get EDI to help you this morning, and afterward you might want to do your first session up in your cabin.”

“That sneaky son of a bitch,” I hiss. “He played me.”

EDI glances up from her conversation with the doctor. “I was not informed that you needed my assistance, Shepard.”

“Of course, you weren’t,” I grumble. “He knew I wouldn’t ask for help.”

“What?” Garrus looks half way between confused and wondering if he’s supposed to be angry.

I sigh. “I could have asked him to get someone to help me, but Vega knew I wouldn’t. He used my pride against me so that I would try to do the most I could for myself.” I half laugh. “I think he wanted to make sure I knew I wasn’t helpless.”

“So, are we grateful or…”

“He’ll live to see another day.”

Just then, Tali races in panicked with her hands clutching her head around her helmet. “Dr. Chakwas!”

“Tali, what’s the matter?” The doctor reaches for Tali’s shoulder, but she walks out of reach, pacing back and forth as she claws at her helmet.

“It’s the back of my head. It won’t stop itching. At first it wasn’t so bad, I thought it was probably a minor allergic reaction, but now I can’t stand it.” She pulls her hood down, exposing the tubes and wires that connect from the back of her suit into her helmet. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but nothing works. I need you to look at it.”

“Alright, Tali.” Dr. Chakwas guides her to the bed next to me. She opens one of the overhead cargo bays and pulls out one of the masks Liara uses when we go into low oxygen environments. “Now, we are going to have to disconnect and completely remove your helmet. This isn’t a clean room, so I can’t do anything about outside contagion, but this should help keep anything out of your lungs.”

Tali nods taking the mask. “I’ve been flooding myself with antibiotics trying to fight off whatever this is. I’ve even locked down my suit from the neck down afraid that it might spread.”

“Have you noticed any other symptoms besides the itching? Fever?” Dr. Chakwas begins unhooking the hoses from the back of Tali’s helmet, each making a slight hiss when they unlock.

“No, nothing.” Tears wobble her words.

With Garrus’s help, I move to sit beside her, taking one of her hands in mine.

“Shepard, I’m so scared,” she whispers.

“You’ll be okay, Tali.” I squeeze her hand. “Dr. Chakwas is the best doctor I know. She did bring me back from the dead, after all.”

Tali laughs and sniffles. “Only after Cerberus did it first.”

“Okay, Tali. I need you to hold your breath while I remove your helmet and then immediately use the mask. You ready?”

She nods and grips my hand.

“On the count of three. One…two…three.” Dr. Chakwas lifts Tali’s helmet and Tali immediately pulls the mask to her face and exhales, fogging the clear surface.

Few have seen a quarian outside of their suits in the past 300 years after their race was forced off their home world by synthetics beings they themselves created. Quarians as a whole have always had weak immune systems, having a symbiotic relationship with the bacteria and viruses on their planet, but living several generations in space have left them deathly susceptible to even the most benign of viruses.

Tali’s pale skin shimmers under the overhead lights, refracting the light similar to the underside of a sea shell. Her glowing white eyes search our faces, looking for answers in our expressions. 

“How bad is it?” She asks, her voice muffled by the mask.

“Tali,” Dr. Chakwas gasps, “there isn’t anything wrong with you. You are growing…”

“Hair,” I finish in awe.

The back of her head is covered in inch long raven black hair that is stuck to her scalp in greasy swirls and spikes. The skin underneath appears to be red and irritated, bits of skin flaking off as Dr. Chakwas runs her hand over it.

“That’s impossible,” Tali retorts. “Quarians haven’t had hair since the first generation that left the home world. The friction of our suits makes it impossible to grow hair.”

“Tell that to your head,” Garrus counters.

Tali lets go of my hand and tentatively touches the back of her head. “I have hair!” She squeaks, tugging on the short strands.

The doctor laughs. “Yes, and I believe we have found the culprit for your itch.” She pulls a bottle from a drawer nearby and squeezes a foam into her hands. “This is a no rinse shampoo,” she explains and runs it through Tali’s hair, massaging the scalp as she goes. When she is finished, Tali’s hair pokes up in damp spikes. “Use this every few days, and you should be fine. We’ll try and set up a clean room…”

“Tali,” EDI interrupts, examining the back of Tali’s suit. She summons her omni-tool and begins to take readings. “Are you aware your oxygen filters are malfunctioning?”

“That’s impossible. My suit would have alerted me immediately if anything was wrong, besides, within hours I would be extremely sick if they were malfunctioning. Outside of the itch, I feel fine.” Tali lifts her left arm and summons her omni-tool. “You may want to…Keelah, my warning system…it must have been disabled in the blast. My filters haven’t been functioning since the Normandy crashed!”

Panic snakes through me. “Tali, are you okay?”

She looks up with a watery smile. “Shepard, do you know what this means? I’m…cured.”

“Doctor, it seems Tali has proven my hypothesis about the planet’s fauna,” EDI says looking up at Dr. Chakwas, her robotic voice tinged with pleasure. “The new cybernetics in the crew’s bodies will help their immune systems adapt against any bacteria or viruses in the edible plant life. If the crew eats the local vegetation in small doses at first, they should only experience minor discomfort before being completely immune.”

“It looks like we’ll be having the most uncomfortable shore leave ever,” I muse. “Let’s round everyone up and tell them the good news.”

 

~*~

 

Before Garrus helps summon the rest of the crew, I have him assist me up onto the mess’s counter, allowing me to sit elevated up enough for the rest of the crew to see me. I brace my arms on my knees to keep from toppling over.

Kaidan is first to arrive. Dressed in Alliance armor, he walks over and leans on the counter to my left, careful to avoid the pistol on his hip. He, too, looks better than how I saw him the night before, now clean shaven, well groomed, and military pressed, short of the layer of dirt clinging to his boots.

“So how was running the Normandy while I was gone?” I ask.

“Let’s just say, I’m glad to have you back.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Being in charge of small platoons did not prepare me for this.”

“You did well, Kaidan. Everyone is alive and safe. That’s thanks to you.” 

“I don’t know how you do it, Shepard.” He rests both elbows on the counter and looks toward the ceiling. “Every decision I made, every valuable resource I used, I kept worrying if this is what will make the difference of life and death down the road.”

“Can’t second guess yourself. It will only drive you crazy.” I pat him on the shoulder, the metal of his armor warm under my fingers. “Before everyone else gets here, how about you bring me up to speed?”

“Well, we are currently running on emergency power. I’ve had all non-essentials shut off until we can regenerate the reserves. Tali figured out how to jerry rig solar panels to the Normandy’s outer hull. Donnelly, Daniels and Adams have been working on the installation, but it’s a little out of their expertise. The story of the past six weeks, honestly-- everyone working on the fringes of their expertise,” he sighs. “Hell, Liara has spent most of her time using her biotics to help move anything too big to carry. We’ve had to turn on the AI core in spurts, just long enough for EDI to swap pertinent data into her mobile unit, because it would exhaust our power in hours otherwise.”

“Smart,” I reassure.

“The Normandy landed near a cliff side, and we’ve used small search parties to explore the remaining perimeter. So far no major threats, but we’ve set up heavy turrets to keep any larger predators away. There’s a stream with fresh water less than two klicks north of us, and the weather in the immediate area is mild tropics, so I guess there could be worse places to crash. Reminds me a lot of Virmire, actually.” He laughs with no humor. “Until we can get the Normandy’s scanners online, it’s nearly impossible to search for eezo. I have to be honest, Commander, I don’t see us getting off of this rock soon. We are going to have to start thinking of long term setup.”

“I was afraid of that.” I massage the spot between my brows.

The Normandy’s crew files into the mess hall, some taking the few seats available while others crowd in a semi-circle around Kaidan and me. Tali, not ready to face the rest of the crew, leans against the wall that separates the mess hall from the medical bay with her helmet and faceplate back on. Everyone’s faces brighten when their gaze falls on me, and there is a warm chorus of joy to see me up and moving around. 

Once everyone settles down, I begin. “First off, I want to express how proud I am of all of you. These past six weeks have challenged each of you in ways I can only begin to imagine. I also want to thank you for not giving up on me. It’s because of your efforts that I am alive right now.”

The crew cheers and claps and a few Oorah’s and Hooyah’s can be heard over the din of noise.

“Unfortunately, our challenges are not over. Until we can find enough eezo to start the mass effect core or we can get our quantum entanglement communication up and running, we will be calling this planet home. EDI and Dr. Chakwas have discovered that by consuming small doses of the local fauna our bodies will inoculate itself to the native viruses and bacteria. Though they assure me there will only be mild discomfort, for the next week, everyone will be on light duty. Once we acclimate, we will begin preparing a more long term plan.”

Everyone is silent, my words coating the edges of their worst fears.

Jarvik walks forward, arms folded across his chest and eyes pulled into slits. “How is this possible, Commander?”

Kaidan stands up straighter, and I lightly touch his arm in a silent communication to stand down. “The synthetic portion of our DNA will act as the vaccine and help our bodies adapt to the foreign bodies introduced by the local vegetation.”

“Another gift from the reapers,” he sneers.

I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, pulling on the threads of my patience. “If you want to get technical, it’s a gift from me, since it’s sampling from my DNA that made it possible.”

“DNA that was altered by Cerberus using reaper technology, and then used to alter all organic life by a machine controlled by the AI who created the reapers. I can barely stand to exist in the body you defiled in the name of peace. I, for one, am not going to benefit from the technology created by those that systematically slaughtered my people.”

“Then starve,” Kaidan answers quietly.

They stand inches apart, staring each other down with gritted teeth. Members of my crew start pulling to attention, unsure of how they should respond to the growing tension in the room.

“That’s enough, you two. Stand down, now." I try to put in enough bite to cut through their anger. "That's an order!"

Kaidan is first to listen and leans back against the counter. Jarvik holds his position for a moment before walking out of the room, pushing past many of the standing crew.

“Let him go,” I command when Vega moves to stop him. The day isn’t even half over and I’m beyond exhausted. My gaze fans over my crew, reaching each pair of eyes I can manage. “I promise you, this is not permanent. I _will_ get us back to Earth. I _will_ get us home. But until then, we have to plan for the worse.” I clear my throat, and tilt my head towards Kaidan. “Major Alenko will set up teams to collect edible vegetation and fresh water. We start tomorrow. Dismissed.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Lola  
May 2205**

“The target isn’t going to sit still so you can shoot it,” my dad remarks when we walk through the front door.

We’ve just returned from target practice, a father/ daughter ritual we’ve done every Sunday morning as far back as I can remember. This Sunday, we practiced in one of the few undeveloped fields that exist outside of the city. He’s dressed in his C-SEC armor, his rifles neatly attached to the back of his suit. I, on the other hand, have all of my weapons banging around in a duffle bag, because I’m dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt and leather jacket. 

“But if it’s moving that much, I shouldn’t be using a sniper rifle in the first place,” I counter, dropping my bag near the door. On either side of the front door are displays of my parents’ passions; to the right, my father’s old historic rifles, and on the left, my mother’s model starship collection. “An assault rifle with a mid-range scope would be far easier to aim. And why would my target be flying through the air like that anyway?”

“Trust me,” he says in straight-faced seriousness. “Someday you may end up under the command of a crazy woman that enjoys nothing more than throwing your targets hundreds of meters in the air. In that case, you won’t have time to switch weapons.”

“I heard that,” my mother yells from the couch.

My father meant the comment as a joke, but the hairs on my neck stand on end. This past week anytime the subject of military service is even grazed, my stomach twists into knots. It’s a rare moment that my mother isn’t out in the field, but she’s done her best to cherry pick her assignments recently in an effort to stay close to home until my graduation. Normally, I love when my mom is home, but this week, keeping my secret from both my parents in person has been like swallowing knives. As far as I can tell, Waggs has kept his word, but I sometimes wonder if my parents know and are just waiting to spring their disappointment on me.

My father grins before walking over to my mother. He leans over the back of the couch and kisses her upturned face. Wrinkles spider from her eyes when she smiles.

“So it went well today?” She asks, her coffee cup suspended in one hand and a data pad in the other.

“I still suck with shotguns and submachine guns,” I grumble and slump into the couch next to her, propping my feet on the coffee table.

“Shoes,” my mother barks. “You’d think I raised you in a barn.”

“Nope, just in the wilds of a previously undiscovered planet,” my father adds over his shoulder on the way to the kitchen.

I slip off my boots and put my feet back.

“Shotguns and submachine guns aren’t precision weapons,” she continues, ignoring my father’s comment and sipping her coffee. “I think you just have your father’s distaste for any weapon that doesn’t do the job in one shot.”

“Because what’s the point,” he counters, returning with a bag marked with a blue sticker, indicating the contents are dextro based food. When I was little and couldn’t read the labels, my parents let me pick out stickers that they could mark the food in our cabinets and refrigerator with. I chose blue dots because of my dad’s tattoo. Even though I can now read the labels, the tradition stuck. “Why waste the clip shooting down someone’s shield, when it’s more efficient to use tech or biotics to disable them and then do one kill shot? Shotguns you have to be right in their face to make sure the spray hits anything. It’s far better to take them out at range. I don’t know why you bother practicing with them at all.”

A spear of panic shoots through my chest. I want to be proficient in all weaponry before leaving for basic training, but I have no excuse otherwise. I shrug and hope that’s enough.

“To each their own, dear,” my mother intones.

He points the bag in his hand at her. “And, my lovely wife, what weapon do you reach for first?”

She sighs. “Pistol or assault rifle depending on the distance.”

“My point exactly,” he smirks, pulls a strip of jerky from the bag and begins gnawing on it.

“You know, I recently placed a grade 5 thermal scope on my N7 Valkyrie,” she points her coffee cup at him, “and I swear it has the precision of my M-29 Incisor with half the weight and a larger clip.”

“If you are going to use the Incisor, you might as well use the Valkyrie. They have almost the same punch,” he rebukes. “Now a real rifle is my Black Widow, or at least Lola’s M-92 Mantis.”

She shakes her head. “Too heavy. Just slows me down.”

“You do like to be in the thick of things,” he muses, his voice dropping an octave and he leans back over the couch.

“You know me,” she purrs, tilting her head up towards him. “I’ve always been an up close and personal kind of woman.”

“I love it when you talk weaponry,” he whispers, kissing her.

“It’s like I’m not even here!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “We really need to discuss boundaries and you two’s lack of them. Impressionable teenage daughter here!”

My father glances up from my mother and points to my bag on the floor. “Lola, don’t leave that there. Take it to the weapons locker where it belongs and make sure to…”

“To remove the thermal clips and clean the weapons before putting everything away in the locker. I know, Dad.” I drag my body from the couch and throw my duffle over my shoulder. “You two just want me out of the room so you can make out. Seriously, gross.”

They both laugh.

“And don’t just leave the clips on the workbench,” he calls after me. “The chargers are there for a reason.”

I slog to the room at the end of the hallway across from my bedroom. My parents use this space as both a workout room and as a place to keep their armor and weapons. It takes me over an hour to disassemble everything and put it away, the entire time my nerves needling at me. The whole week I’ve felt like the walking dead, my anxiety keeping me awake every night waiting for this day. This evening, my blood relatives will be here, and I get to share the “happy” news of my enlistment. I volunteered to cook dinner, because neither of my parents is very good at it due to both accustomed to lives with mess halls. I’m hoping good food might soften them a bit. 

The last weapon I clean is my sniper rifle, the as for mentioned M-92 Mantis, and I mount it under my father’s Black Widow. It’s his favorite gun because it’s the rifle he took with him on the final fight on earth. He considers it lucky and even though he doesn’t fire it much anymore, he cleans it regularly. If I’m in the room when he pulls it out onto his workbench, he’ll let me ask him questions about the war, but I get the impression that it was far worse than he can describe. He always gets a distant look in his eyes as he runs the soft cloth over the rifle’s black metal surface, visions of that day playing through his mind. The day my mother saved the universe…and died.

 

~*~

 

I’m busily putting the final touches on dinner, lasagna, salad and garlic bread for the aminos and a fish course with mixed vegetables native to Palaven for the dextros, when my grandfather and Aunt Sol arrive.

“Where’s my granddaughter?” my grandfather bellows from the front door.

I take off my red checkered apron and notice my shirt has grass stains from lying in the dirt this morning. _Too late to change now._ I turn off all of the burners before running out of the kitchen. “Grandad!” I cry and leap into his open arms. As his only grandchild, my grandfather has an indulgent soft spot for me that baffles my father. I’m tall for a human female at 5’ 10”, but short for a turian, so I only come up to my grandfather’s nose. He’s dressed simply, his suit navy blue with chocolate brown accents.

“And where’s my hug?” Aunt Sol asks, opening her arms. I extract myself from my grandfather to hug my aunt.

“Is this new?” I run my fingers along the shoulder of her burgundy tunic that hangs low in the back but cuts open at the waist in the front. Swaths of gold trim make intricate patterns along the collar and down the front.

She laughs. “Yes, Nel believes I need more color in my life. Apparently, she thinks I wear too much blue.” Nel is my aunt’s girlfriend, Nelyna, an asari acolyte for the consort.

“Good to see you, Sir,” my mother greets my father’s father, walking out of my parent’s bedroom. She is dressed in black slacks, white blouse, with a short black vest.

“Jane,” he nods. My grandfather’s indulgence doesn’t extend to my mother. He dislikes Spectres and how they are allowed to operate outside of the law, and so disapproves of my mother on principal.

“Be nice,” my aunt whispers over my head.

“It’s okay, Sol.” She gives a tight lipped smile. “If he was nice, I would worry he was dying.”

My father snorts and tries to cover it with a cough. He’s in rare form out of his C-SEC armor and is instead dressed in a grey and black suit with buckles along the front.

While my parents make awkward chit chat, I break away from my aunt to finish dinner. When I’m in the middle of plating, white dishware for amino based food and blue dishware for dextro, my grandmother arrives.

“Hi, mom,” my mother’s voice filters in from the entryway.

“Councilwoman Shepard,” my grandfather echoes.

“Vakarian,” my grandmother responds in turn. To say the dynamics of my immediate family are complicated would be an understatement. At this rate, my big announcement might slip under the radar behind the snipping barbs at each other. _Ah, family._

“Smells delicious, Lola-bug,” my grandmother says when she enters the kitchen. She’s dressed in a long form fitted dress of ivory and pink, her white hair pulled up into a neat bun on the top of her head. “Anything I can help with?”

“No, Grandma, I’m good.” I smile and give her a quick hug. I pick up two of the serving plates and start carrying them over to the dinner table. She gathers up two more and follows.

“Here, Mom, let me take those.” My mother retrieves the plates from my grandmother and then motions her to the couch. “You sit.”

“I’m not decrepit, you know,” she retorts on her way to the couch.

“I know, Mom, but just humor me.” My mother sets the plates down in the center of our cherry wood table. “Perhaps, I like you to relax when you come and see us.”

Both my parents follow me back into the kitchen to retrieve the rest of dinner.

“I like you to relax when you come and see us?” My father smirks, picking up the plates and silverware to set the table.

“I couldn’t very well say, ‘I need you to distract my father-in-law before I club him over the head.’”

“You going to make it?”

“It’s always such a pleasure when your father visits,” my mother says with acid tinged words.

“Showing disappointment is how you know he thinks of you as part of the family, Shepard.” He chuckles. “Secretly, he admires you, but he’s too by the book to show it. He can’t seem like he approves of your lawless ways.”

“You mean that lawlessness that saved the universe…what was it? Oh that’s right, _three times!_ ” She sighs.

“Breathe, love,” my father soothes.

She takes in a deep breath, holds it for a second before letting it out. She then shakes her head and upturns her chin. “Just for the record, your father is worse than dealing with the damn Volus councilman, and he’s never happy.” Picking up the last of the serving plates, she walks out of the kitchen.

Once dinner is served, everyone gathers around the table and begins to fill their plates. I sit across from the windows and can see the London skyline painted in the rich magenta of the setting sun. 

After a round of compliments to the chef, Aunt Sol asks, “How’s work, Jane? Any interesting cases you can share?”

“Yes, any assignments recently requiring skirting of the law?” My grandfather takes a bite of his dinner. “Do you considering it bending or breaking the law? What you do, that is?”

“Dad,” my father cries with a tortured sigh, dropping his silverware on his plate.

“Actually,” my mother says with clipped antagonism, “thanks to my position as a Spectre, I was able to apprehend a hanar terrorist cell that was planning to blow up a local asari school. Apparently, they didn’t want to let go of their preconceived notions of the Enkindlers and took offence to the Protheans being taught as mere mortals.” An evil smirk spreads across her face. “But I’m sure you couldn’t possibly relate…Sir.”

Aunt Sol chokes and pulls her napkin to her mouth, trying to both suppress her laughter and not spit her food across the table. My grandmother, on the other hand, throws her head back and laughs uproariously. I’m so shocked that I can’t seem to close my gaping mouth.

My father chortles and shakes his head. “She got you, old man.”

Grandad looks down as his plate for a moment. “Touchè, Jane,” he responds, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. If I wasn’t there, I wouldn’t believe it, but my grandfather actually starts laughing. “I do not envy any person that gets on the wrong side of your temper.”

“I have heard that it is hazardous to one’s health,” my mother responds good-naturedly.

I’m unsure if it’s a permanent truce between them, but the tension in the room eases, and the rest of the meal is filled with the light banter about current events. As the meal comes to a close, however, my stomach is twisted in so many knots that I have barely touched my dinner. My lasagna only has a few bites torn away from it, most of it broken into pieces and pushed around my plate, and the red sauce has bled into my untouched salad.

My grandmother is the first to notice my still very full plate. “Are you feeling well, dear?”

“Yes. I mean, No. I mean…” My heart is pounding so loud that I feel like my words are coming from far away. _I’m too young to have a heart attack, right?_ The big moment is here, and I’m so nervous I feel I might be sick. _I should have told them before signing up. Maybe they won’t care? Fat chance._

“Sweetheart, you look pale,” my mother moves to stand up, but I wave her back down.

“I’m fine,” I take a sip of water. “Really. I just…uh…have news.” My sentence trails up into more of a question than a statement. I clear my throat.

“Good news, I hope.” My mother clasps her hands and rests her elbows on the table. Her eyes narrow with suspicion. Being the famous Captain Shepard, she spends most of her duties brokering negotiations between the leaders of all the different sentient species. This has made her very good at reading people. 

“I think so.” I rub the back of my neck, unsure what to do with my hands. Everyone gives me their full attention, and I want to crawl under the table. _Breathe._ “I uh, decided to continue the Shepard tradition and,” like pulling off a bandage, I say the rest of the sentence as if it’s all one word, “I-enlisted-in-the-Alliance-and-my-ship-date-is-June-17th.” I take a huge gulp of water. “Dessert anyone?”

“What?!” My parents say in tandem.

“Of course, you did.” Grandad says with little surprise. “It’s your civic duty. It’s just unfortunate that you weren’t raised on Palaven. You would have three years of training by now.”

“She’s a biotic, Dad.” Aunt Sol reminds him and pats my knee. “Her talents would be wasted in the turian military.” She politely ignores that even if I wanted to join the turian military, being a Vakarian would not be enough for them to accept me into their ranks.

My parents sit frozen. I’m unsure if they are shell shocked from my enlistment or from not telling them first.

“The Alliance is lucky to have you, dear.” My grandmother soothes. “Who’s your recruiter?”

“Uh, his name is Lieutenant Waggs.” I stare down at my plate, because I can’t look at my parents’ stunned faces.

“I haven’t heard of him, but the man sure can keep a secret. Another Shepard enlisting and this is the first I’m hearing about is pretty impressive.” She takes the last bite of her dinner and then points her fork at no one in particular. “The media will have a field day with this.”

“Yes, I imagine so,” my grandfather agrees gravely.

Beeps announcing an incoming call start emanating from my parents’ bedroom where my mother keeps her work terminal. My mother returns to life, wiping her mouth with her napkin before rising. “I have to take this. Excuse me.”

My father sighs. “Do I even want to know why you decided to enlist without at least mentioning it your mother and me?”

“I didn’t want you talk me out of it,” I say just above a whisper, shrinking into my chair.

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” my grandmother muses. “For the record, your mother didn’t tell us either until after she enlisted, but in her case, she assumed we expected it of her. Honestly, as a biotic, there was little else she could do. I’m sure being raised amongst the stars didn’t help matters. Even now, she gets a little antsy if she’s planet side too long.”

“I can certainly relate to children seeking out adventure,” Grandad adds, giving a pointed look at my father.

My mother steps out from the bedroom. “Mom, it’s the council. They wish to speak to you, too.”

“Excuse me.” She stands and follows my mother into the other room.

“I hope it isn’t serious,” Aunt Sol says after them.

“So June 17th, that’s soon,” my father continues.

“Yeah, I uh, wanted to go straight in after graduation.”

He nods. “I guess I can’t be too surprised. We did send you to an academy that teaches you how to use biotics in combat. Why did you think we wouldn’t want you to enlist?”

“Because it could be dangerous,” I push the food on my plate around some more. “Because I’m the first hybrid in the human military, which means I’ll be harassed and scrutinized more than everyone else. Because I could end up hurt like mom was.”

“That’s all true, though I hope you are more cautious than your mother is.”

Speaking of, my mother and grandmother walk back out.

“I’m sorry we’ll have to cut this evening short,” my mother interrupts. “I have a case that needs my immediate attention. Lola, I’m proud you wish to carry on the family tradition, but I wish you told us sooner.” She paces, half of her thoughts stolen to another subject. “Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make your graduation, but I promise, sweetheart, I’ll be there when you ship out.” With that she heads to the back room to collect her armor and weaponry.

My father looks up at my grandmother. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t share too much, but some of our Spectre operatives have gone missing.”

“Missing?” He stands. “Could they be working a case?”

“Each of them was working unrelated cases, so it seems unlikely that all of them are in a position to be unreachable.” Worry bisects her brow as she turns to look down the hall.

My mother returns in full armor, holstering her pistol on her hip. “Ready to go?” She directs at my grandmother. “If we hurry, we should be able to catch the next shuttle up to the Citadel.”

My father walks over to my mother and cups her face between his hands. She overlays one of her hands over his, leaning into his touch. They look into each other’s eyes, and I can’t help worrying that this mission is different than the ones she’s gone on before.

“Be safe,” he whispers and gives her a long slow kiss.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know more,” she whispers back, breaking away from him.

My mother and grandmother walk out the front door, and just like that, my big news is forgotten.


	6. Chapter 6

**Shepard  
December 2186**

Tali rubs the back of her neck, her hands bare for the first time in years. “Are you sure I look okay?”

It’s Christmas Eve, over two weeks since I woke up from my coma, and Tali has chosen the party tonight for her big reveal. Dresses borrowed from Liara are scattered on my bed, abandoned for Tali’s normal armor, sans gloves and helmet. I, on the other hand, have been encouraged by multiple persons to wear a dress to promote relaxation and a party like atmosphere. I pull up the black strap that has slid off my right shoulder.

“Maybe I should wear a dress after all?” Tali picks up a green and white dress, running her fingers along the sleeves. “Shepard, I’ve never had to think about stuff like this.” She flounces down on my bed.

“Tali, you look fine. Wear what’s comfortable for you.” This advice is fairly ironic, since what I’m wearing is light years from comfortable. I simultaneously pull up on the bust and down on the hem of my dress.

“Everyone is going to stare at me.” She pats down her hair that has been combed to sweep across her forehead.

I sit down next to her, careful to keep my knees together. “Yes, there might be some staring, but Tali everyone here cares about you. They’ll be happy and excited for you. Now, there is a party going on outside and we’re hiding in my cabin. Let’s go get drunk.”

She giggles. “I won’t have to put any of the alcohol through filters first.”

She hands me my make-shift cane, a sturdy wooden stick that has been whittled down for my use, and I hoist myself back to my feet. The Normandy was not designed for long term medical care, so she was never equipped with things like canes, crutches and/or wheelchairs. Out of sheer stubbornness, I’ve managed to gain enough strength to walk on my own. Well, hobble is closer to the truth, but it’s under my own power. I’ve removed the heels from the dress’s matching shoes, turning them into flats, so as to be easier to get around in. Tali hovers next to me while we slowly walk towards the elevator and down to the party.

Outside of the Normandy, a large area has been cleared out and tables and chairs that were pilfered from throughout the ship are set in a hodgepodge cluster, making sure there is room for dancing. Lights of varying sizes and strengths are strung together and hanging amongst the surrounding trees that resemble the palms from earth. James, taking on the role as bartender, is filling drink orders behind a makeshift wooden bar. A long table is set up beside him with plates of food, most dishes made from experimental recipes that Vega and Kaidan have concocted using the local vegetation and wildlife. The crew is gathered in small groups, sipping their drinks and chatting, while glyph zips around them taking requests for the next song. The days on this planet are longer than Earth’s, so at 2100 hours, the sun is just starting to coat the sky in dazzling pinks and oranges.

Tali lends me her arm and helps me down the stairs from the Normandy. Liara is the first to notice our arrival and weaves through the crowd towards us.

“It’s good to see you, Tali.” She smiles, before her brows pucker in confusion. “Did none of the dresses fit?” Liara is dressed in a festive maroon dress that covers her from neck to wrist to ankle. She appears surprisingly comfortable considering there is a damp heat to the air.

“No, the dresses were fine. It’s just…”

“Too much?”

“Yeah.” She touches her hair again, shrinking into herself and flicking her gaze from the sandy ground to the surrounding crowd. She clutches at my arm, and I can feel her tremble with anxiety.

“Alright, enough’s enough. You and I have faced far more terrifying things than the good news that you can survive outside of your suit.” I clack my walking stick against the metal steps to the Normandy, gathering the attention of the crowd.

“Shepard,” Tali hisses and ducks behind me, “what are you doing?!”

“Making this quick and relatively painless,” I whisper before raising my voice so I can be heard by all. “Tali, has some amazing news. Tali…” And I side step out of the way, leaving Tali in full view of the crew.

She smiles, one side of her mouth pulling up, and gives a tentative wave. At first everyone is silent, processing the significance of what they’re seeing. It’s rare to see someone’s life shift so fundamentally off-kilter in a moment, but it turns out, this is Vega’s moment. While the crew erupts in joyous praise and congratulations, flocking around Tali, James’s face changes from surprise to dazed to apprehension. He quickly looks away and starts talking to Garrus. I manage to evade the crowd and hobble over to the bar.

“Drink, Commander?” James asks, while handing me some orange fruity concoction.

I lean against the bar and take a sip. The drink has a mango like sweetness with a bitter aftertaste, followed by the warm burn of alcohol. I clear my throat and wheeze. “What is this?”

“It’s my own invention. I figure if we’re going to be stuck here for any amount of time, we can’t do it without _aguardiente._ We found a root that is similar to potatoes, so I made…”

“Vodka,” I finish.

“You guessed it. It’s not _tequila,_ but it’ll do for now. It doesn’t go down quite as smooth, so I’ve been mixing it with whatever fruit I can find.” He smiles distractedly, stealing glances over my shoulder.

I take another sip, prepared for the hard kick this time and enjoy the flood of heat that flows through me.

“Vega and I were just discussing how to stretch the dextro liquor,” Garrus adds. “If I’m going to have to live as a vegetarian, it’s going to require some booze to keep it all down. Turians were not meant to live on green vegetables alone.”

“I’m sure with enough determination, you two will figure out how to make perfectly healthy vegetables into hard liquor, or at least a decent beer.”

Garrus chuckles, but Vega actively peers over my shoulder and scowls. “They really should give her some space.”

I look over to the crowd. “Tali, you mean?”

“Yeah,” he folds his arms over his chest. “They’re going to make her claustrophobic, if they keep at it.”

“Why don’t you fish her out and make her a drink?” I say, glancing back to Vega’s face.

“You think?”

“I do know she was excited about her first drink that didn’t require a filter.”

“You’re right. Be right back.” He hops over the bar and weaves through the crowd to save Tali.

“I’m thinking someone has traded his love of ‘blue beauties’ for the girl with the glowing white eyes and iridescent skin.” I lean into Garrus, and he wraps one arm around my shoulder.

“I’m still partial to red heads with green eyes.” He whispers into my hair.

“Good answer.” I put my drink down and wrap both my arms around him. I tilt my head up so I can see his face. “It’s good to see you out of armor. It’s harder to feel you up over steal metal plating.”

“Like the dress, Shepard,” he murmurs, running his hand down my spine. Little starbursts of pleasure ripple in the wake of his touch. “It’ll look great on the cabin floor tonight.”

Garrus and I haven’t been intimate since the night before we infiltrated Cerberus’s main base. For the past two and half weeks, he’s handled me with excruciating care, as if my return was a fluke and if he touches me with anything but kid gloves, I’ll dissolve back into the charred body he found. So this flirtatious game of chicken already has my engines humming and counting down the time when we can steal away from the party.

Vega returns with Tali in toe, interrupting the swirl of sexual tension Garrus and I were wrapping ourselves in. James slides back over the bar and offers Tali a drink.

Tali is flushed and her almond shaped eyes are wide with delight. She takes the drink from Vega’s hand, intentionally grazing her fingers against his. “You know, I was really nervous,” she sips her drink, “but it’s so amazing to finally be able to touch people. Really touch them, you know?” She pats his hand again to illustrate her point.

I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from snorting. 

Vega’s ears have turned a lovely shade of pink, and it seems all of his one-liners have left him. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I get that.”

“I don’t know what I was afraid of. I don’t stop being me just because all of you can see my face, right?” She downs the rest of her drink and slams the glass on the counter. “Come on Vega, I want to dance! See if you can keep up.” With that she sashays toward the open dance floor, her hips rolling with fluid grace.

“Right behind you, Sparks.” This time he walks around the table and shouts, “Estaban, watch the bar!” Their arrival on the make shift dance floor seems to be all the permission needed for the rest of the crew to let loose and join them.

“Don’t feel up to dancing, Commander?” Cortez asks with sympathy.

“Not nearly drunk enough,” I laugh. I look out at the remaining few that aren’t dancing. Liara and Javik are in a corner looking far too serious for a party, sharing a plate of fruit over a data pad. I have the distinct impression they are working on that book Liara has been needling Javik about. _At least it keeps them busy._

Garrus follows my gaze, catching Javik eating a piece of fruit off the plate. “How did you get him to start eating anyway?”

“I reminded him that he agreed to follow my command when he joined my crew, _and_ if he refused my order, I would make him obey it.”

“You would _make_ the 50,000 year old Prothean warrior eat?” He looks down at me, scarcely masking his incredulousness. “When you could barely stand up on your own?”

“He had a similar reaction, until I mentioned bigger enemies than him have regretted the day they underestimated me.”

“What if he called your bluff?” Cortez asks, bracing his elbows on the counter.

“Oh, I wasn’t bluffing. I would have made him.” I reach for my drink and take a sip. “He didn’t have a gun and my biotics are fine. He would have to get in close to take me down, and I was armed with a hypodermic needle that had enough tranquilizers to knock him out for hours. I planned to strap him down in the medbay and force feed him until he was inoculated.”

Both men are stunned for a moment. “I know I’ve said this,” Garrus finally replies, “but remind me to never get on your bad side.”

I smile up at him. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll never tranq you unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“That’s comforting.”

Cortez chuckles.

Near the nose of the Normandy, I can see Kaidan sipping his drink and stoically looking over the cliff side into the sunset. I shake my head. “Okay, something has to be done. You two get the academic and crotchety Prothean to participate in the festivities; I’ll handle my neurotic XO.” Grabbing my drink in one hand and my walking stick in the other, I begin my slow progress towards Kaidan.

“Should you be walking around?” he asks once I’m within earshot. He points out larger rocks and roots, so I don’t trip on my approach.

“You make an excellent point; help me sit down.” I say it as a joke, but really my legs are terribly sore. I’ve refused to rest until I could stand on my own, and the cost has been a constant ache throughout my muscles. Sometimes, it’s a dull throb; other times, it’s sharper and therefore harder to hide. In those cases, I take long showers willing the hot water to do what I refuse to let time do.

He leads me over to a knee-high, overturned tree, helps me down, and then takes a seat next to me.

“Do I need to even ask why you’re over here alone, while the rest of the crew is enjoying some much needed R&R?” I slip off my shoes and massage my left calf with both hands, my thumbs rubbing the aching spots below my knee while my fingers kneed the back of my leg.

He sighs. “Just having a hard time finding the holiday spirit this year.”

“You’re alive and so is the rest of the universe.” I switch to the other leg. “Seems like enough reason to celebrate to me.”

“We don’t know if the Crucible worked.”

“It did.”

“Because the AI that created the reapers told you so?”

“No, because Tali doesn’t _need_ to wear her suit anymore. Because Joker can walk around as if he’s never heard of Vrolik syndrome. Because we are able to survive on this planet due to being part synthetic. Clearly, what the catalyst claimed to be able to do happened, so I have to believe that all of it was true.” I stretch out my legs and close my eyes, pointing and flexing my toes.

“But we won’t know for sure until we get off this rock, and I have no idea how to do that.” He runs one hand through his hair.

“Well, I doubt you’re going to figure it out tonight, brooding over here.”

“I don’t brood,” he counters. “If anyone broods, it’s you.”

“Oh, I am well aware I brood. Comes with people’s lives constantly resting on my decisions.” I go back to rubbing my knees. “Fortunately, I have friends and loved ones to pull me out of it, which is what I am here to do for you. As everyone is fond of reminding me, you aren’t alone and you don’t have to come up with all the answers by yourself.”

He smirks and shakes his head. “I think I’ve heard that once or twice.”

“I believe what you meant was, ‘I’ve said that once or twice.’”

He laughs and looks down at my hands hard at work. “How bad is it?”

“Today is one of the better days.” I sigh. “Patience has never been one of my virtues.”

“And thank the Maker for it. Your stubbornness and impatience has saved our hides multiple times.” He nods at my legs. “Does Dr. Chakwas know?”

“I may have played it down a bit, but yeah, she knows. I think she’s given up on convincing me to take it easy, though. When I walked into the medbay under my own power for the first time, she literally raised her hands in the air and said, ‘I give up!’”

“So I should probably just save my breath?”

“Yes, but you can help me over to the food table and explain what the hell you and Vega came up with. Were you aware he made his own Vodka?”

“He mentioned something about it, yeah.” He helps me back to my feet and steadies me while I slip my shoes back on. “How is it?”

“It has quite a kick to it, but it’s drinkable.”

 

~*~

 

After an hour or so, the sun makes its descent behind the distant mountains, and our little gathering is colored in the soft glow of the medley of strung together lights. There is a lull in dancing in favor of food, and the topic of a name for our new home comes up.

“I say we name it planet Joker, since he was the one that crashed us here.” Vega is first to suggest, settling down next to Tali with a plate full of food.

“Joker?” Tali replies, “We can’t name a planet Joker. No offense.”

Joker raises his hand to illustrate no offense was taken. 

“If we are going to name the planet after Joker,” Tali continues, skewering her fork through leaves of greenery, “we should name the planet Moreau. That at least sounds like a planet’s name.”

“How about we not name the planet we’re stranded on after me?” Joker counters. “Why not name the planet Shepard? She was the one that caused the blast wave that got us here.”

“Thanks for that, Joker,” I respond sardonically.

“Anytime, Commander.”

“I know what to call her,” Kaidan says, aware as much as I am that this will be our home for longer than either of us wants to admit. “Normandy.”

There is a murmur of agreement and bobbing of heads.

“Then it’s settled.” I raise my glass and the crew follows suit. “To planet Normandy, may she be as generous and kind to us as her namesake.”

“But preferably with less gun fights and explosions,” Joker adds, and we laugh while we drink to the toast.

Now that I’m pleasantly buzzed, Garrus talks me out onto the dance floor. Glyph is playing something slow and lazy, the melody more of a background to bodies leisurely fusing together. I’ve been sitting for most of the evening, so my legs only mildly ache. I lean heavily into Garrus and wrap my arms around his neck, using his strength to keep me steady. His hands are at my waist, tracing small circles along my lower spine. The molten center of desire that has hummed through the evening, now churns with hungry fervor throughout my body. I decide I’ve put in a long enough appearance, and I’m ready to be alone with this man I love.

Tracing my fingers down his neck, I stand up on the tips of my toes and gently pull his face to mine. “I think it’s time you take me to bed,” I whisper, before I kiss him. At first, it’s just a soft tease of lips, but quickly escalates as a clear message of my intentions.

He releases a shaky breath and traces one hand along my face. “Let’s get out of here.” Offering an arm to me, he walks me toward the Normandy. 

“Leaving so soon, Commander?” Traynor asks when she catches our slow escape.

“Uh, yes,” I smile awkwardly. “Legs hurt. I’ve been walking a lot today, and I need to lie down.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Brilliant about Tali, isn’t it?” She nods, sipping on her glass of one of Vega’s concoctions.

I look over to the dance floor. Tali is currently in the arms of one of the CIC yeoman, and James is behind the bar pretending not to care. “I’m really happy for her.”

Traynor nods again, and then notices she’s holding me up. “Oh, uh sorry, anyways, I hope you feel better.”

Once we’re at the elevator, waiting for the lift to arrive, Garrus pulls me into his arms. “Your legs, huh? Think she bought it?”

I snake my arms around his waist and press myself against him. “I really don’t care.”

One of his hands stays at the base of my spine, while the other cups the back of head. He dips his face to mine, gently grazing his lips along my jaw. Garrus is a man with infinite patience with the ones he loves. He is tender and kind and generous, always sure to take his time with me. But his touch ignites fire in my veins, and I am quickly hungry for more. 

Pulling his lips to mine, I throw everything I have behind my kiss. The door to the elevator slides open, and we stumble inside, shifting to its nearest wall. Garrus distractedly presses the button for my cabin, while I stretch myself as tall as I can to continue kissing him. Soon our height discrepancy is too cumbersome, and he picks me up at the waist and lifts me to his height. I wrap my legs around his waist, my dress hiking up past my thighs.

When we reach the correct floor, I’m tempted to just lock the elevator and take him here, but Garrus carries me out, my arms and legs still securely wrapped around him. Inside my cabin, we find the closest flat wall and press against it, which happens to be the outer wall of the bathroom. Leveraged against the wall, my hands are free to begin unbuckling and unsnapping his shirt and jacket.

“Why do turians wear so much clothes?” I mumble against his lips.

“Says the human with a damn security lock on her underwear.” He responds, meaning the stays on my bra.

“You get these,” I say while placing his hands on his chest, “and I’ll handle this.”

I unwrap my legs from his waist and slide to the floor. We separate with just enough space that I can grab the hem of my dress and pull it up and over my head. Next goes the bra and panties, before I am right back to the belt buckle of his pants.

“Shepard,” he growls, shoving his shirt and jacket from his shoulders. “If we don’t slow down, I’m not…”

“Next time,” I interrupt, pulling his mouth back to mine. “I promise we’ll take our time then.”

He hoists me back into the air and against the wall. Despite our obvious differences, I feel like his body is designed perfectly for me. I love how his hips jut from his waist, creating perfect valleys for my legs to rest. I scrape my fingers along his back, searching out the soft spots near the plates of his spine. He nibbles at my neck, his mandibles brushing my collar bone.

Together we ride this intense, joyous wave that sharply declares, “We are alive. We survived!” Glorious heat and insistent lust floods through me, fueling my need to touch and taste his skin. I bury my nose into his neck and breathe in his wonderful scent of earth and sun and something that is indescribably him.

His fingers dig into my thighs when we reach the apex of our joining, and my body slams against his while we plummet back down. Once we regain our senses, he releases a shuttered laugh.

“I’ve missed you,” I whisper into his ear, which elicits another chuckle.

Slowly we part, and he slides me back down to my feet. Endorphins do amazing things for the body, and I can barely feel my legs, let alone their aching muscles. I lead him to our bed, him finishing undressing on the journey. As promised, we are slow and thorough the second time, reveling in a different kind of celebration. This is one of lazy pleasure and awareness that, finally, we have all the time in the universe.


	7. Chapter 7

**Lola  
June 2205**

I shift my head to the side and shake back my chin length hair so I can see to tie up my boots. They are new and shiny, freshly crafted from the Quarian armor smith in the lower wards. It’s been two weeks since I graduated from Grissom Academy. The ceremony was small and lackluster, short of the entire audience making sideways glances at my family of attendees. Not surprisingly, I was the only one that had more aliens than humans show up and most of them are famous. Neota nearly lost it with excitement when she was seated next to my Aunt Liara and Javik.

Standing up from my bed, I take a final look around my room. The walls are pale lavender, my favorite color when I was eight. My bed, dresser and desk are heavy woods painted in creamy white. Pictures of my life up to this point hang on the walls. Pictures of my dad and I out target practicing, my mother and I swimming in the clear blue lakes of Palaven, there is even one from my third birthday when we were all still stranded on Normandy. I’m grinning up at the camera while my parents smile proudly down at me. 

Everything looks the same, yet today, everything is different. I finish packing the few things they’ll let me keep in training: a hair brush, 3 new sets of leather gloves specially made for my hands, socks, underwear, and two data pads, one with a copy of my medical records and waivers, the other filled with images of family, Neota, and home. I throw on my leather jacket over my T-shirt and jeans and then lift the black satchel over my shoulder before heading out.

Cracking open my door, I’m surprised to find my parents are arguing, when I hadn’t realized my mom was home yet.

“Shepard, I’m going,” my father insists, “and the fact you don’t want me to go, just proves how much I need to. Someone has to watch your back.”

“Don’t you think I want you there?” She whispers harshly, but her voice carries easily down the hall. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I refuse to risk orphaning our daughter.”

“But you will risk her losing her mother, that it?” I can feel the vibrations of his steps, as he paces through the living room.

“Garrus, that’s not fair. I’m a Spectre. This is my job. ” She sighs. “What about C-SEC? What about your responsibilities here?”

“That’s bullshit, Shepard. You damn well know why I took that job with C-SEC, and it has nothing to do with its responsibilities. Lola is leaving today. There is nothing tying me here.” He pauses, before finishing. “Besides, it’s already done. I put in for a leave of absence to the council stating that if they didn’t approve it, I quit. It’s up to them how bad they want me back when this is all over.”

“Your father is going to love that,” she says wryly.

“I imagine he’s use to it by now.” He gives a bemused snort. “Trust me. You and I, together, have far better odds of both surviving, than us apart. You, of all people, know that.”

She releases another heavy sigh, this one of surrender. “Sure you aren’t rusty? You haven’t had to dodge a whole lot of bullets sitting behind that desk of yours.”

“I think I still remember how to watch your flank.”

“Well, that you’ve had practice with even behind the desk.”

He laughs, and then they are too quiet for me to hear any more.

Panic runs cold as ice through my chest. Whatever my parents are facing now is far worse than I imagined. As a Spectre, I knew my mother’s job wasn’t safe, but they always treated what she did as no big deal. I grew up sure there was nothing too dangerous for my mom to handle. Family and friends joke about how my mother attracts trouble, usually of the fire fight variety, like a magnet, but they’re always delivered with the light hearted certainty that she is unstoppable. Listening to my dad, with angry fear in his voice, worries me that all I’ve grown to know to be true is a lie. My mother is mortal after all.

I do a few rapid blinks and work to rearrange my face to mask any knowledge of what I just heard. Once I’m sure my expression is the correct one, I walk out into the living room. My mother, wearing her dress blues, sits on the edge of the coffee table facing towards the wall adjacent to the hallway. Her elbows are on her knees, and she spins her cap between her hands. My dad is leaning against the back of the couch dressed in his under-armor suit, which is also blue and gold. They are often described as two sides of the same coin, and at this moment, they truly look like a matching set.

She rises when she sees me, straightening her coat and tucking her cap under her arm. “You ready, kid?”

All my good intensions are gone in a second, and I can’t help but hug my mother as tight as my strength will let me. Everything inside me wishes I was little again. Wishes I could climb into her lap and she could make all the bad things go away. Instead, I’m bent at the waist just so my mother can rest her head above my shoulder.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she comforts, rocking me side to side. “I know it’s scary to leave home, and it won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.” She pulls away enough to look into my eyes. “I am so proud of you, Lola. But I hope you did this for you, and not because you thought we wanted or expected you to.”

I sniffle and run a knuckle under my eyes to catch any tears before they shed. I shake my head. “No,” I croak, “I did it for me.” I want to tell her that these tears are for her. That I’m scared for her, not for myself, but I’m equally scared of knowing more. I feel like if I treat this mission like any other, then it will be like any other. 

“Okay,” she nods and holds me by the arms. “Now remember, their job is as much to see how you perform under stress as it is to train you. It’s a game. Do what you’re told, no matter how absurd. Speak only when spoken to. Study hard and… just do your best.” 

“We should go,” my dad interrupts, rubbing my shoulder.

“Is Neota not coming?” she asks, releasing me.

“No, uh, we said goodbye last night. Did a whole movie night and everything,” I say with a trembled laugh.

She picks up her cap that fell to the floor when she hugged me and situates it on her head. “Okay, then, let’s go.”

 

~*~

 

Outside the Alliance processing center in downtown London is a mad horde of reporters and protestors. It’s still early morning, and the sky is a heavy grey. Visible mist clings to the crowd, resting on coats and wilting poster edges. The news has finally gotten out that I enlisted. Flashbacks of my childhood run through my mind, but this time, there are far more angry faces. Signs that read _Alliance is for humans only, Half aliens are still aliens,_ and _Keep aliens out of the Alliance,_ are accompanied by chants of, “Hybrids aren’t humans! Keep the aliens out!”

My parents shield me from both sides, each with one arm around me and the other arm pushing to clear a path to the front door. Bright lights sting my eyes as cameras whoosh in front of us. Barrages of questions are pelted at us, each with their obvious slant.

“Captain Shepard, do you believe your child is receiving special treatment?”

“No comment.”

“Lola, does this mean you consider yourself human over turian?”

“She has no comment.”

“Is it true your daughter chose the Alliance because the turian military wouldn’t accept her?”

I can feel my parents’ muscles tensing like piano wires as they doggedly push towards the door. Two armed Alliance marines help to clear a path to us from the other side. Before we finally make it inside, I can’t help but take one last look. The blur of irate faces is staggering. I knew my enlistment would be controversial, but I never imagined this. My own fury beats in my veins, and I want to scream, “Why? I’m willing to put my life on the line to protect yours. What’s so wrong with that?” Instead, I turn away and follow my parents through the glass doors.

“Well, that happened,” my mother grumbles when we’re safely inside. She removes her cap, placing it back under her left arm.

“We should probably leave through a different exit, because I can’t promise I won’t clock a reporter or a protestor on the way out,” my father adds, his mandibles shifting hard against his jaw.

“And the Executor of C-SEC getting in a fist fight is sure to make the news, particularly, when his Spectre wife is right in the mix with him.”

He laughs but with little humor.

The two marines at the door salute my mother, and when she returns it, they shout, “Officer on deck!” before returning outside to guard the door. 

The whole room stands at attention with a unified loud thud and salutes my mother. Recruits not yet sworn in follow suit with puzzled expressions, unsure of how they should respond.

She sighs and returns the salute. “As you were, everyone.”

The room goes back to their bustle of activity, though now there are excited and nervous peering over desks and around cubicle walls. Some nudge each other, pointing at the vaulted far wall and then back at my mother, eyes going wide with realization. On the wall is, of course, the same poster of my mother from the recruiting center.

“Oh, come on, that was over twenty years ago. There has to be a better Alliance poster child by now,” she laments.

“It’s hard to beat the savior of the universe,” my Uncle Kaidan says, walking out from behind one of the cubicle walls. Lieutenant Waggs approaches alongside him, his expression pensive.

My mother stands at attention and salutes with an amused smirk across her face.

My Uncle Kaidan glares back. “Damn it, Shepard. You salute me again, and I swear…”

But she continues to stand at attention, her smirk turning into a grin.

He finally returns the salute, and she stands at ease. “You know damn well that if you were a sane woman, I would be saluting you. Besides, it’s really only a formality anyway, because we all know I can’t actually order you to do anything.”

“Of course you can give me orders, General,” she smiles wickedly, “it’s just a question if I’ll follow them.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls down on the hem of his dress-blues jacket. Lieutenant Waggs looks like he might pass out, and it occurs to me that listening to legends make jabs at each other is not normal for most people.

My mother glances back at the poster and grimaces. “I forgot how form fitted the armor use to be back then. It’s a wonder it protected against anything.”

Both Uncle Kaidan and my dad look up at the poster.

“I don’t know,” my dad muses, “I kind of miss the old look.”

“It did have a certain appeal.” My uncle grins.

My mother squints at the two of them, her mouth pulling up into a wry smile. “I do recall you both looked quite fetching in the Phoenix sets. Pink was really your color.”

“Current armor is much better, though,” my father back peddles.

“Yes, much safer,” my uncle readily agrees, and they all laugh.

Lieutenant Waggs shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, and he keeps clasping and unclasping his hands, clearly unsure of what is proper protocol in this situation. 

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, we’re being rude.” My mother finally addresses my recruiter, extending her hand to shake his.

His eyes grow wide as he reverently shakes her hand. “It’s a real pleasure and honor to meet you, ma’am.”

“The pleasure is mine,” she smiles. “I hear that you didn’t hesitate to assist my daughter in her enlistment. Thank you for that.”

“The Alliance is lucky to have someone has talented as your daughter.”

“Speaking of,” my uncle interjects, “I’m not just here to see Lola off. I started a program a few years back that takes the best and brightest biotics of both the Navy and Marines to train for small infiltration teams. Lola would be perfect. If she’s interested, she’ll go with me to San Diego, California instead of heading to Great Lakes. Unfortunately, since I only just learned of her enlistment--thanks for that by the way-- Lola, you have to decide now. We’ll just have enough time to process you and get you sworn in before we fly out.”

“Kaidan, you can’t be serious. She’s only eighteen. She’s…”My mother implores.

“The best biotic I’ve seen, since well, you.” He reasons. “Plus, with her background in tech and weaponry, she is the most well rounded recruit we’ll have. Which is lucky since her division is just finishing up their P-week, so she’ll have to hit the ground running, so to speak.”

“But what about her basic training? Her officer training?”

“All integrated into the program. Shepard, trust me,” he looks over at me, “Lola was born to be a part of this, and if she makes it through, she could save a lot of lives.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” my father reflects.

“I’m not the one that needs convincing,” she sighs. “Lola, this is up to you.”

They all look at me, and I can feel heat rise up my neck. This all feels too much, too fast, but I joined the Alliance because I knew it was where I belonged. And it wasn’t to be a yeoman behind a console analyzing data. I nod. “I’ll do it.”

My uncle claps his hands together. “Great. Let’s get you processed and on that shuttle. I’ll give you a few minutes to say goodbye.” He motions for Waggs to follow him.

My parents look at me. My mother opens her eyes wide and blinks in an effort to stop from shedding tears. My father pulls me into his arms, resting his chin on my head, his mandibles catching bits of my hair. My mom finishes the circle, arms wrapped around us and pressed against my back. When I was little, we would always hug this way, me in the center of my parent’s embrace. I would cry “Lola Sandwich,” and no matter what they were doing, they would stop to hoist me in the air and wrap me in their arms. No spot ever felt safer.

The lobby of the processing center is laid out similar to the recruiting center, with the same floor to ceiling windows running along the front of the building. As we stand huddled together, this private family moment is being broadcasted throughout the universe. Opinions about me, about my parents, are being weighed and debated by people I’ll probably never meet. My mother has dealt with this kind of scrutiny her entire adult career. Individuals, with hindsight on their side, ruthlessly pick apart her decisions, and I wonder how she does it. I’ve heard the stories of how the old council scoffed at my mother when she warned of the reaper invasion. Of how she had to strong arm them all to respond when the reapers finally arrived. Of how she was hated, portrayed as crazy, even called a traitor, but she kept moving forward, relying on her instincts to not steer her wrong. I close my eyes and try to take in my mother’s strength along with her love. 

When we break apart, tears stain both my parents’ cheeks, and I can’t help but be surprised. I’ve never seen them cry. “We are so proud of you,” she says, emotion clouding her voice.

“We love you, sweetheart,” my father adds, wrapping one arm around my mother’s shoulders.

She sniffles and nods. “We’ll write as often as we can. And uh, when you write to us, address them to the SSV Normandy SR3. We’ll get them there.”

I know I should point out she said “we,” since they haven’t officially told me my dad is leaving C-SEC to go on some dangerous mission with her, but it doesn’t really feel like the time to get into it. Instead, I nod and mutter, “Okay.”

There is another quick exchange of hugs, before my uncle and recruiter are motioned back over.

“Ready, kid?” My uncle asks, giving me a side hug.

“Yep.” I stand up straight and attempt to smile. Lights flash on the other side of the windows.

My mother tilts her head in that stiff, robotic way she does when she’s trying to hide being upset. She clears her throat. “Lieutenant, would you happen to know a less…crowded exit we could take out of the building.”

“Of course, ma’am, right this way.”

They both give one last lingering look before following Lieutenant Waggs toward the back of the building.

I stick to my uncle’s heels as we weave through cubicles on my way to processing. Every enlisted man and woman we pass look at me with wide eyed curiosity, not only because I’m a hybrid, but also for being escorted by a two star General. Each bored Petty Officer we approach to arrange for me to be bumped to the head of the line, startles to attention, terrified of the reasons a General would have business here. My eyesight is checked, my hearing is checked, and I look at colored bubbles arranged in way that proves I’m not color blind. The physician performing the physicals is summoned out of the examining room to review my medical records.

The girls lining the walls waiting their turn stand at attention, their faces carefully neutral except for narrowed eyes. I can’t tell if they’re glaring at me because I usurped their place in line, or because I’m a hybrid. I stare at the grey tiled floor. The hallway is narrow, and I can feel myself shrinking into myself to take up less room. Anxiety needles at my stomach, realization of what I’m doing hitting me in waves. Not only have I enlisted, but I’ve volunteered to be placed in the line of fire. I’ve never shot at things that shoot back, certainly not with the intent to kill me.

The physician signs off on my paperwork, and we’re off to swear me in. I’m lumped in with a group of recruits just finishing their processing. We’re lead in by my uncle into a windowless room with the Alliance flags hanging on the walls, each representing their respective branches, bracketing the one representing Earth. There was a time when humans use to identify themselves by what region of Earth they were from but that all changed when the first Prothean beacon was found. It was decided only united could humans successfully explore the universe. Then the First Contact war showed humanity they weren’t alone and that the universe was already thoroughly explored. It’s hard to believe not quite fifty years ago, turians and humans were slaughtering each other by the thousands. My grandmother fought in the First Contact War, and now she has a turian son-in-law.

We stand in neat rows in the center of the room, the shorter recruits in the front and the taller ones to the back. I’m lumped in the middle. It’s a simple room with concrete walls and grey tiled floors, but there is something in the air that borders on holy. This is the room I swear my life and my allegiance to the protection of man-kind. The final wave crashes against me, but it’s stemmed by the strength of those that came before me. My mother and my grandparents stood in a room much like this one and spoke the same words I’m about to utter. Were they scared like me, or did they face this responsibility with stoic resolve, fully sure in their decision?

We are brought to attention. I imagine this moment will be retold many times by the participating recruits, as they are swore in by Major General Alenko, the second and only other human Spectre. Together we raise our right hands and pledge to support and defend, to bear true faith and allegiance, and finally, to obey orders and perform our duties to the best of our abilities. With these final words, it is done. I’m officially part of the Alliance Navy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Shepard  
December 2186**

Light slides through the cracks of the overhanging branches, spackling my cabin in hazy morning sun. Still heavy with sleep, I roll on my side to find Garrus awake beside me.

“Morning.” His voice has an earthy vibrato born from sleep and silence.

“Good morning.” I twist around him like grape ivy, my head resting in the crux of his shoulder and my hips subtly bumping against his. 

He traces one hand along my spine, cool shivers dancing in its wake, while the other rests on my thigh that is straddled over his waist. His thumb draws invisible arcs on my skin, and he emits an amused hum.

“Hmmm?” The question vibrates from the back of my throat.

“It’s uh…It’s just that I’m still surprised by how soft your skin is.”

I shift more onto my stomach, resting my chin just right of the hard crest that bisects Garrus’s chest so that I can look up at him. “We humans are on the softer side, I suppose. Why does it surprise you?”

“Maybe surprised is the wrong word. Turians have hard exoskeleton plating around vital systems of the body: heart, spine, brain...but seeing you in action, Shepard. Watching you dive into a middle of a fire fight and decimate those that stand in your way. It’s still strange to connect such an unstoppable force with a form so…”

“Soft?” I smirk. “That’s what armor and biotic barriers are for, and of course, an Archangel to watch my back.”

“So that’s what I’m for.” He chuckles.

A wicked grin spreads across my face. “I have a confession.”

“Oh?” The plate of his left brow shifts up in interest.

“Every time we’re out in the field, and I hear the click of you reloading the Black Widow, well…” I lick my lips, “let’s just say, it’s very sexy.”

“Really?” He looks down at me, lifting his head off the pillow. “We’ve been in how many fire fights, and now you tell me. Brings a whole new meaning to my thermal clip metaphor.” He shakes his head and leans back, adjusting the pillow around his neck to keep his fringe from stabbing into the bed. “Why the reload and not the shot itself?”

“I don’t know.” I sit up a bit so I can look into his eyes, resting my weight on one elbow. “Maybe it’s because I know you don’t miss, or maybe the sound of you sliding a new clip into place reminds me that you’re there protecting me and any of my…vulnerable positions.”

“Want to go target practicing?” He smiles, his mandibles flexing out.

I laugh. “That would require leaving this bed, which I don’t have plans of doing much of today. I’m sure the crew is still pretty hung over from last night’s festivities, and what better Christmas’ gift to the crew than letting them all sleep in?”

“I’m serious, Shepard.” He runs his fingers down my left arm, pulling my hand into his. “I have somewhere I want to show you.”

“You want to go target practicing instead of staying in bed?”

“No, not that necessarily, but I do think you should consider a little shore leave yourself. You’ve been so focused on your physical training that excluding last night, I don’t think you’ve left the ship once. This planet isn’t so bad; parts of it remind me of Palaven, actually.”

“I guess a little sunshine could do me some good.” I sit up, dragging my legs over the edge of the bed. I stretch my arms up over my head and arc my back into a silhouetted C, aware that I am still very naked.

Garrus groans behind me.

“Still want to go on our little excursion?” I tease over my shoulder.

The sheets pull from my lap when Garrus sits up. He leans over to me, touching his lips to my shoulder. “As crazy as this sounds, yes, I still want to go. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

“If you say so…”

 

~*~

 

I lean my back against a tree trunk and slide down its length, gripping my walking stick tightly, a present I found outside my cabin door this morning. _So much for my sore legs excuse._ However, the endorphins from the night before have long since worn off, and my excuse is no longer an excuse. _Worth every sore muscle._

Garrus patiently waits for me to “catch my breath,” so to speak, shifting the satchel he has slung over his shoulder. Between my slow progress and my constant need for breaks, what should have been no more than a thirty minute walk, has taken close to an hour.

“Remind me not to die again,” I joke. “Recovery is a bitch.”

“Well, I did order you not to die last time.” He smirks, tweaking up one brow.

I smile and shake my head. “You did not just say, ‘I told you so.’”

“I wouldn’t dare, Shepard.”

We both laugh. Tension that has festered between us since I woke up over two weeks ago has finally started to ebb away. Before last night, we were in this awkward holding pattern, our emotions still too tender to even poke with our paten humor. Me frustrated with my uncooperative body, and Garrus coming to grips with me actually alive, instead of the inert form of the past two months, and that I won’t break if he breathes too hard on me. Weight that I hadn’t realized was there lifts from my shoulders.

“Okay, smart ass, next time _you_ can save the universe. Now, help me up.”

He grabs one of my offered hands and pulls me to my feet. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

“Just think, we could have been naked and in bed all morning,” I mutter.

“You’re lagging, Shepard,” he says over his shoulder, walking deeper into the surrounding trees.

Of what I’ve seen so far, this planet is tropical forest lush, with foliage as bright and vibrant as peacock feathers. The days are significantly longer than the nights, allowing for beautiful sunshine but also warm oppressive heat. I, happily, forwent uniform regs this morning and decided to wear just my under tank top with my uniform pants and boots.

Garrus leads me through a winding path that I imagine was created by the local wildlife, its space narrow and too disjointed to be made by humanoids. He is sure to push aside any branches or shrubs that might hinder my progress. Finally, he stops and tells me to close my eyes.

I do as he asks, and he takes one of my hands to lead me the rest of the way. Fat, smooth leaves brush against my body before giving way. Bright orange glows against my eyelids, announcing we have broken free from the thick cover of trees. I can hear the pounding rush of falling water nearby.

He positions me just so before allowing me to open my eyes. Before me is a steep hillside, water running in wild streams down its face into an aqua blue pool. The water lazily swirls around well-worn boulders before heading further down the stream to my left and over a sheer cliff. Past the cliff is jungle ridden mountains wrapped in humid haze.

“It’s not Palaven or Earth, but it has its moments.” He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my back against his chest.

“It’s beautiful, Garrus.”

“Worth the trip?”

I look up over my shoulder and give him a sly smile. “Depends. Interested in skinny dipping?”

He releases a loud bark of laughter, and I can feel another veil of tension ease. “Need I remind you that turians can’t swim? Flailing, splashing followed by drowning ring a bell?”

I peer over at the stunningly blue water. “Looks pretty shallow.”

He places the crest of his forehead to the back of my head; the exhaled breath of his mirth brushing my hair. “How about we eat first?”

“If you insist.”

He pulls away and finds a flat spot near the water looking out over the cliff side. Out of the mystery bag, he sets up what looks like a picnic: blanket, fruit, wine. There is a nervous energy about him that echoes of our first night together. _Can’t expect to get back to where we were all in one night, I suppose._

I hobble over, and he helps me sit. “This looks very much like a date,” I muse.

“Figured I would give it another shot.”

“I don’t know, last time wasn’t too bad.” I stretch out my legs and lean back on my hands, enjoying the honeyed breeze filled with the scents of exotic flowers and cool water.

He chuckles, shifting to one side and bracing his weight on one elbow. “You know, I have a theory on your terrible dancing.”

“Lack of rhythm?”

“Shepard, I’ve seen you on the battle field and in bed, rhythm is not your problem.”

“Oh?”

“I believe you don’t know what to do with yourself, so you over think it. Out in the field where you know what you’re doing, you move with a liquid grace that frankly, is pretty damn sexy.”

“Flatterer,” I tease. “Now, if only I could equate dancing with taking out reapers, I’d be set.”

“We’ll work on it.” He looks out over the horizon, and a shadow of anxiety crosses his face. “Shepard, I uh…” he pauses before lamenting, “Damn, I’m terrible at this.”

“Garrus, it’s fine.” I take a sip of my wine. “I was only joking about leaving our bed. Well, mostly joking…”

He clears his throat. “Shepard…before I met you, I was, I don’t know…lost is the wrong word. Frustrated. Short sighted, maybe. I couldn’t see any other way to fight injustice other than using their own tactics against them. You, however, always told me there was another way, one that didn’t mean compromising myself. After Sidonis, I realized my moral compass, how do you humans say it, didn’t point true north anymore? If you weren’t there…”

“But I was there, and you listened. You could have shot him, but you let him go…”

He holds up one hand to silence me. “My point is that you make me a better man.” He faces me, his head cocked down, and he looks up into my eyes. “On Omega, I met the man I would be without you, and I don’t ever want to be him again.”

I’m only now noticing that one of his hands has been closed in a fist through his entire speech, hiding something in his grasp. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and the air suddenly feels too thin. 

He takes a deep breath. “Jane Shepard, will you marry me?” He sits up and opens his hand. Sitting in the center of his palm is a simple, silver colored ring.

While everything feels still, my heart hammers wildly in my chest. Shocked speechless, I’m left with nodding my head.

“Yes?” He mimics my nod.

I grin. “Yes.”

I hold my left hand out, and while sliding the cool metal over my finger, he confesses, “This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done and that includes facing down reapers.” He looks up panicked. “Shit, I was supposed to do this down on one knee, wasn’t I? That’s what humans do.”

I pull his face to mine and whisper against his lips, “It was perfect.”

“I love you, Shepard.” He touches his forehead to mine, one of his hands cupping the back of my head.

“I love you, too, Vakarian.”

We are quiet for a moment, wrapped in the warm promise of many tomorrows together. Eventually, Garrus lies back down on one side, his head propped on his hand, and I lay down on my back, my side flush against him. 

Taking a closer look at my ring, I notice it’s darker than silver metal and much weightier. “Where did you get this?”

“I had it made from metal taken from the old SR1. I thought it fitting since it was the ship that brought you into my life.”

“The SR1?”

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Originally, when we placed that monument, I took a piece for sentimental value. Stupid, I know, but…”

“Garrus, _when_ did you have this made?”

“When?” He looks sheepishly out at the horizon again and half coughs out, “Our last shore leave on the Citadel.”

“That long!?” I’m flabbergasted to think of the mundane things I was doing while he was picking out engagement rings, and I had no idea.

“I wanted to wait, until it was all over, you know?” He takes my hand, his thumb rubbing over the metal band. “With the war going on, I was afraid you’d think it was in the heat of the moment. I needed you to know that when I asked for a lifetime together, I meant the next hundred years or so.”

“You know, we have no idea how our biosynthetic cells will affect lifespans. It could be closer to two centuries, instead of one.”

“Two centuries with Saint Shepard, hmmm.”

“Saint?”

“You brokered peace between the Turians and the Krogans, and then peace between the Quarians and the Geth. Yep, all you were missing for sainthood was peace with the reapers.”

I grab a piece of fruit and throw it at him. He laughs and poorly attempts to dodge it. I assume to keep me from flinging more food at him, he points out the engraving on the inside of the ring, something EDI helped him do.

I slide the ring off and read, “There is no me without you.”

“Yeah, trying to write both our names was a little long, but I thought this got the point across.”

“It’s perfect,” I can’t help saying again.

We talk of simple things. I joke that he’s marrying me for my famous last name, he counters that really it’s about the reserved bed space in my cabin. We branch out, discussing what our lives will be like once we get back home and humorously touching on how our families will respond to the news, when a sticky topic comes to mind.

“Garrus, we may have a problem.”

He looks down at me, the plates of his brows furrowed low. “What?”

“As the CO of the Normandy, I would normally be the one to ordain over the wedding, but since I’m the one getting married…”

“The responsibility falls to the XO, which is…” He says the sentence slowly, dawning realization elongating each word.

“Kaidan,” I finish.

“He’s still in love with you, you know,” Garrus murmurs, “not that I blame the guy.”

“He may have mentioned it a few weeks…er, couple of months ago. Damn, I have to stop loosing time like this.”

“He did?” This grabs his full attention, and he sits up, resting his weight on one hand. His form blocks out the sun, casting his face in shadows.

“He found out about the two of us and our night together, which I still have no idea who told him.”

“Shepard…”

“Anyway, he told me that he understood why I cheated…”

This garners a raised brow and squinted eyes. “Cheated?”

“Yeah well, his interpretation of what happened on Horizon and mine are apparently very different.” I sigh. “Essentially, he said he still loved me and wanted to make it work.”

“And what did you say?”

“Well, we were going to run off together until you invited me for target practice, and I couldn’t resist your god like precision with a rifle,” I say with heavy sarcasm. “What do you think I said? I did my best to let him down easy and told him we were better friends.”

He nods. “Poor guy.”

“Poor guy!? You only seconds ago…”

“What?” He shrugs, his posture much more relaxed. “I can appreciate his pain. If you stomped all over my heart like that…”

“Stomped all over?” I shove him, toppling him over onto his back. 

He laughs and pulls me up on top of him before resting back on his elbows.

Straddled over his lap, I smack him on the chest. “This is serious. What do we do? Ask someone else to perform the ceremony? The Normandy has a small crew and Joker has a big mouth, they’ll know why Kaidan isn’t doing it. Or do we ask him to suffer through it?” I shove the pieces of my hair that have escaped my ponytail out of my face.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, after he found out about us last time, I think I should talk to him. I’ll break the news of our engagement to him first and then let him think on it awhile before broaching the ceremony business.”

“Kaidan is my friend, and I really do feel bad for him, but he was the idiot who let you get away,” Garrus reaches up to touch my face, “Which I am eternally grateful for.”

I smile. “So should we get back to the Normandy and spread the good news?”

His voice drops an octave; a sound that never fails to elicit goose bumps of pleasure down my skin. “I was thinking skinny dipping.”

“A much better idea,” I purr.

 

~*~

 

It’s midafternoon by the time we make it back to the Normandy, and Garrus and I part ways so that I can find Kaidan. This time, I don’t want the news reaching him before I can tell him. 

Since we no longer require a night crew to run the ship, hot racking isn’t really an option anymore. As a solution, large beige tents have been set up to house the overflow of crew members. Most of the crew is gathered in small circles outside their tents, some talking about their families, others trying to remain positive with so much uncertainty. With little inquiry, I’m informed that Kaidan is out repairing one of the heavy turrets.

My muscles have reached a consistent ache by the time I make it out to Kaidan, and I’m now leaning heavily on my walking stick. “The damage must be pretty bad for you to be out here on Christmas,” I say in way of greeting. “Shouldn’t you be nursing a proper hangover like the rest of the crew?”

He looks up from the panel he was bent over repairing. He’s dressed similar to me, his uniform shirt hanging from a nearby branch. “I like to keep busy.” He brushes his hands against his pants, bits of grease staining his fingers. “I’m fine, Shepard, really. No need for another pep talk.”

Nervous guilt snakes through my stomach. Despite, or maybe even because of, all we’ve been through, Kaidan is one of my closest and most trusted friends, and no matter how I phrase this, it will hurt. “Well, good, because that’s not why I’m here.” I motion towards a tree stump nearby that was cleared to make visibility room for the turret. “Come sit; my legs are killing me.”

He takes my left arm to help me limp over, and I’m glad I decided to pocket my ring for the time. All of this mirrors the night before, and it stuns me how much has happened in the few hours in between.

“Sounds like I should be giving you the ‘you need to relax and take a break’ pep talk,” he says once we sit.

“I swear, Alenko, if you even look like you’re about to say ‘I told you so’…”

He laughs with genuine warmth. “Not I told you so, just maybe, take it easy. I know it’s hard for you that you aren’t at your best. You’re too use to pushing yourself to your limits and way past them, but there’s no need to right now. Give yourself a chance to heal.”

His concern scratches against my resolve. _How do I tell a man I still deeply care for that I’m marrying someone else?_

“Okay, Shepard, what brings you all the way out here?”

I sigh, resting my elbows on my knees, and position my walking stick between my feet. “There is really no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it.” 

“Okay.” He stretches the word out, filling it with subtle apprehension.

“This morning, Garrus asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I’m forced to look at him to gauge his reaction. His face is surprisingly blank, the shifting of his eyes the only indication of him processing. He finally asks, “What am I supposed to say?”

“You don’t have to say anything,” I reason. “It’s just, after how you first found out about Garrus and me last time, I wanted to make sure you found this out first hand and not from someone else.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he says with bite that stings.

We sit side by side, frozen, neither saying anything to the other. My lips feel tingly from pressing them together so tightly. Finally, I decide the silence is too much, and I should leave him to his thoughts. I attempt to stand up when he clamps his hand down on my wrist, holding me in place.

His voice scrapes against his throat. “I have to ask. If I…if I had dropped everything and came with you on Horizon, would we still be together?” He looks up at me, his face cast in stone except for the moisture that clings to the rims of his eyes.

“Kaidan…”

“I promise, I’ll never bring it up again, but I need to know. Was that the moment I lost you?”

I sigh. “You’re not going to want to hear this, but it was much simpler than that. Did I want you by my side? Of course, but I understood two years had passed and that you had obligations of your own. Do you remember what I told you when the SR1 was on lock down, and we were essentially benched from going after Saren?”

He rubs at his jaw, and I can hear the scrape of day old growth scratching against his skin. “You uh, asked me something like why couldn’t I just say, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.’”

I nod. “When we met up on Horizon, I wasn’t even sure I was really me or just some elaborate VI that thought it was me. When you called me a traitor…”

Kaidan flinches.

“When you called me a traitor,” I continue, “and accused me of being a tool for Cerberus, I was terrified you were right. In the end, I decided it didn’t matter what I was. The Collectors had to be stopped, and I was going to stop them.” 

I can’t stop the belabored sigh that escapes my lips. “But my point is, at that moment I needed you to believe in me. I needed you to look at me and see Jane Shepard, the woman you loved, and have faith in me. Logically, I get it, and if I was in your shoes, I might have thought and said the same things. But at the time, what you said…” My sentence hangs while I let out a sad nervous laugh. “For you, it had been two years, but for me, it had only been a few weeks since we were last together. I could still remember your scent, clean soap and that woodsy aftershave of yours. I remembered the way it felt to lay next to you, your breath warm against my ear.” 

He swallows loudly and fidgets next me, and I know those same memories are now racing through his mind.

I clear my throat, trying to break away the painful emotions that lace my words. “Then you looked at me with such open contempt, and it…well, it crushed me. That moment, I understood I’d lost more than two years of my life. I’d lost you.” I sit up straight, release a deep breath, and attempt to sound more like my normal self. “So, I did my best to let you go and move on.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “So it was Horizon.”

“It’s not as clean as that.” I fold my arms over my chest, my walking stick falling with a thud to the ground. I bounce my knees despite my aching muscles, trying to ease the tension that’s building in my chest and between my shoulders. “Damn it, Kaidan, just because I tried to move on, didn’t mean I stopped loving you. I just…I let Garrus in. I let myself feel for him, and well, it grew from there. No, the moment you lost me, as you like to put it, was Mars.”

That gets his attention, and he looks at me with startled surprised.

“Being locked up for six months, it gives a person a lot of time to think. I was fairly sure I was over you, and I made peace with what happened on Horizon. Like I said, logically, your response was understandable. Then the reapers hit and there you were…and what I felt for you flooded back. I loved Garrus, but at the moment, I was shocked to find I still had feelings for you too. 

But when we reached Mars, you took one look at the Cerberus troops and assumed I knew something about it. I stopped the collectors, just as I told you I would. I voluntarily turned myself and my ship over to the Alliance to keep a war from breaking out with the Batarians, despite knowing I did the right thing. Anderson trusted me. Hackett trusted me.” I grit my teeth, attempting to hold old hurts at bay. “But it wasn’t enough for you. You still saw me as a traitor, a potential threat to you and the Alliance. I realized then that I would have to keep proving myself to you, and I deserved better than that. I deserved someone that had faith in me from the very beginning. That was when I chose Garrus over you. That was the moment you lost me for good, romantically speaking.”

We’re both quiet, and I’m afraid I’ve said too much. Part of me knows I should have just said, ‘Yes, we ended on Horizon,’ but I’ve never lied to Kaidan, and I wasn’t going to start now.

“I did it without even realizing it,” he mutters to himself.

My heart feels bruised, and I’m emotionally drained. Despite being outside, it feels like we are surrounded in a tight bubble. The bubble is filled with our thick emotions and the open permission to ask what we normally wouldn’t. “Kaidan,” I whisper, “the reason you’re so adamant about trying to find an immediate way off this planet. It doesn’t really have a lot to do with finding out if the Crucible worked, does it?”

He shakes his head. “No, I think you’re right. I think it worked.”

“It’s to get away from me.”

“Shepard,” he says my name with such beseeched sorrow that it pierces my heart. “It was different when the war was raging around us. We both had bigger things to worry about, but here…”

“Here, we just live.”

He nods again.

“I’m sorry, Kaidan.” I’m careful not to touch him, even though I want to. I want to comfort him in some way. Show him that even though we are no longer lovers, I still care about him.

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t bring this on myself.” He clears his throat and sits up straight. With a forced smile, he pops the bubble surrounding us. “As promised, I’ll never bring this up again. Thank you, Shepard…for your honesty. Tell Garrus I say congratulations.” He knocks his knuckles against the stump we’re sitting on. “I’m, uh, going to go make my rounds of the perimeter.” He stands up and dusts himself off before walking away, ripping his shirt from the hanging branch and abandoning the open panel on the heavy turret.

I sit for a while, staring out at the distant valleys. Birds that resemble hawks swoop and dive at each other. When their bodies finally crash into one another, they dig their claws into each other’s skin and plummet towards the ground for several meters before releasing and swooping back towards the heavens. I take this moment to grieve for the man I loved but couldn’t love me back in the way I needed. To beg any deity that will listen, to please ease his pain and help us off this planet so that he can move on and heal.


	9. Chapter 9

**Lola  
June 2205**

Light bounces off of the cement and momentarily blinds me when we exit the jeep. In London, the sky was a miserable grey, but here, it is a clear cyan and everything feels too bright. The base teems with people all walking with purpose. The hard slam of feet hitting the cement in unison echoes off the concrete buildings’ walls. No new recruits were meant to be processed today, so a lone Master Sergeant receives us.

“Major General, sir.” She salutes, her body an array of straight lines.

Uncle Kaidan salutes back. “At ease, Master Sergeant.”

She opens the door to the unassuming concrete building behind her and holds it open for my uncle and me. The main room is large and empty short of concrete square supporting poles. On one of the supporting beams I notice lines and numbers etched into its surface marking off feet and inches. Near the ceiling, long narrow windows allow streaming afternoon light to comingle with the bare glow of the florescent bulbs. Each of the room’s four walls has double doors that lead off to dark hallways. 

“Vakarian is one of our Navy recruits for the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Training Division. Please outfit her with all she needs.” My uncle says, addressing the Master Sergeant. “Once finished, escort her to the Cairo, assign her a rack, and notify Chief Santiago that she has one more recruit.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turns to me and gives a hint of a smile. “This is where we part, kid. The Master Sergeant will take care of you from here. I’ll see you soon.” With a curt nod to the Master Sergeant, he turns and walks back out of the building.

“This way, Recruit.” She motions toward the back wall before leading the way. I am several inches taller than her, but she has the similar “larger than life” air of my mother that makes me feel small.

Through a set of double doors, she leads me to yet another concrete room, this one with no windows and walls lined with shelves full of black bins. In the center of the room is a long narrow metal table. She places an empty box on the table. 

“All items that are prohibited go into this box and will be sent home, including your civilian clothes.” Her tone is kept as neutral as her expression. “Empty your bag onto the table. What are your clothing and shoe sizes? ”

I answer and then do as she asks while she begins pulling items from the plastic bins. As essentially a clone of my mother, my body is very similar to hers if you stretched it five inches. So, whereas my mother is athletic and compact, I’m athletic and long limbed. My waist is narrow and my hips wider than the ratio of my mother’s, the turian influence on my genetics. I, fortunately, don’t have the turian spike on my calves, so human clothes fit without need of alterations.

The Master Sergeant returns with her arms full. She places onto the table: toiletries, a data pad, socks, underwear, under shirts, shorts, swimwear, gloves, belts, boots and dark blue shirts and pants that look similar to my old Grissom uniform. “Strip down and try these on,” she orders, indicating the uniform. “You will wear an undershirt and these shorts under your uniform at all times. Do you understand?”

I nod. Nerves prickle over my body. I assumed with my background everything would seem natural, but I have never felt more out of place.

“I didn’t hear you.” She looks me directly in the face. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.” I stutter out.

She begins sifting through the few items I brought with me while I change. When she comes to the extra pairs of socks I brought with me, she looks down at my feet clad in socks that split in the center to accommodate only having two toes.

“I, uh, have a waiver for my boots and gloves,” I nod towards my data pads on the table, “Master Sergeant.” 

She pinches her lips while reading through my waivers, her eyes glancing up to each part of me that requires special accommodation. I’m only partially dressed, not yet wearing my uniform shirt and boots. Her gaze burns across my mandibles, my fringe, my tattoo, the subtle hump that rings around my neck and merges into my collar bones, my hands each with three fingers, my too narrow waist, and ends back at my feet. At this moment, I feel truly alien. 

Without comment, she picks up the human boots, socks, and gloves from the table and returns them to their respective bins. Finding everything I brought with me as acceptable for me to keep, she takes the data pad with all of my information and heads to the other side of the room. She keys in something into the interface on the wall and then a few moments later, opens a drawer to the right of the command module.

When she returns, I’m fully dressed and my civilian clothes and bag are in the box. “Does the uniform fit?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.” This time I speak in loud clipped tones, staring at the wall past her head. My mother’s words echo in my head, reminding me it is their job to fluster me.

“Good. Take it off and affix these between the seams on the left side of the shirt and the flap of the left pocket of your pants.” She hands me several patches that have “VAKARIAN” embroidered across them. “To do this, you peel the backing from the patch before you place it onto your uniform. The adhesive on the back will fuse to the fabric of your uniform. You will do this to all of your uniform shirts and pants. They will be straight. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant!”

She gives a curt nod and turns to riffle through more bins. It only occurs to me now that this probably isn’t her normal job on the base.

I undress and lay my clothes flat onto the table. Blood quakes through my veins causing my hands to tremble. Picking up the patch, I peel away the clear backing. On the shirt there is an elevated blank spot where my name is to go. I take a deep breath, line up the patch with the top seam, and press down hard. For a moment, the patch feels warm and then it fuses seamlessly with my shirt. I quickly do the same for my pants, because I desperately want to be fully clothed. I don’t like exposing my otherness to people.

I’m nearly fully dressed again when the Master Sergeant returns with sheets, blanket and pillow for my rack and a large green bag for my personal items. She grits her teeth and spits, “Recruit, did I tell you to put your uniform back on?”

“I, uh…” I stutter. “I just thought…”

“You do not think unless I tell you to think. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant.” I don’t know if she means that I am supposed to take my uniform back off or not, so I just stand there, my heart picking up speed.

She sighs. “You will place your personal items in this bag. You will carry all of your bedding under your left arm. Your right arm is to be empty at all times unless it is physically impossible to carry your load with one hand. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Sergeant!”

I reach to begin filling my bag, and she looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Recruit, finish getting dressed first.”

 

~*~

 

Thirty minutes later, after depositing my belongings at my rack, the Master Sergeant escorts me to the biotic training facility. This building looks newer than the rest; more stainless steel and tempered glass than concrete. The main entrance leads into a large open room where two divisions stand in neat lines, forming rigid rectangles. The whole room drowns in midday light, flooding in through the multi storied windows and bouncing off of the blonde wood floors. Along the walls, large blue sparing mats are stacked several feet high.

In front of the recruits, a short woman with copper skin stands, one hip cocked, next to a man that is half again taller than her and easily double her weight. “Ready to get your ass handed to you again, Romera?” she laughs and playfully smacks his bulging bicep.

“Please, Santiago. I don’t know what game you were watching, but my team owned yours last year.”

“More K.Os does not win you the games. My team finished the mission. Denial won’t change it.” She smirks; her full lips pulled to one side and one fine black brow raised high.

Their banter eases the knot lodged in my chest. This is what I expected coming here. This feels familiar. I follow the Master Sergeant to the front of the room, careful not to squeak on the well-polished floor. 

“Chief, you have one more recruit,” the Master Sergeant announces.

“What? No.” Chief Santiago crosses her arms. “There has to be a mistake. I don’t know who screwed up, but P week is over. They’ll have to apply for the program next year.” She glances at me with a “tough break, kid” look on her face, then double-takes, not hiding her astonishment. Romera is more reserved in his surprise. His eyes, as inky black as his skin, narrow, and he stretches himself to his full intimidating height.

“What is this?” Santiago points at me. “Some kind of publicity stunt?”

The familiar rage from this morning boils in my veins. I raise my chin up against the dig, my mandibles in prominent view along my jawline. Loud murmurs and shocked gazes burn down my skin leaving angry goose bumps in their wake. I don’t know why I thought the Alliance would be any different than Grissom, but it doesn’t matter. I was the best at Grissom, and I’ll be the best here. _Go ahead. Glare at me. I’ll give you a reason to hate me._

“Hey,” the Chief yells, her voice echoing off the walls, “did I tell any of you to talk?”

They immediately quiet down, their gazes snapping back to the front of the room. Romera walks the line of recruits. He leans down at random into their personal space, his face just to the side of theirs. Visibly panicked, each recruit weighs whether they continue to look straight or if they’re supposed to shift their gaze to Romera. I purse my lips to keep from smirking. Smiling in boot camp is dangerous.

“Vakarian was handpicked by Major General Alenko.” The Master Sergeant continues, looking Santiago in the eye. “Like it or not, she’s yours.”

She sighs, eyeing me from the fringe on my head to my two toed boots, and nods. “Understood.” She then says to me. “Recruit, get in line. Shortest to the front; tallest to the back.”

There is a clear division in the two groupings of recruits, and I’m unsure which I am supposed to stand in. I walk to the center, examining the recruit uniforms out of the corner of my eye and hoping for some clue. Both groups are dressed in identical uniforms. My pace slows to a crawl, and I’m about to break into innie-meenie-minnie-moe, when I catch a guy that is roughly my height subtly nodding at me and shifting to make room for me in front of him. _Oh, thank the spirits._

I slide in front of him, but because the lines were formed with me not in them, I’m rather close to both the girl in front of me and the guy behind me. The girl is short enough that I easily see over her head, but my good samaritan is close enough that I am aware of his awkward shifting and his stare zeroed in at the back of my head.

My view of the front door is blocked, and I don’t notice my uncle enter the room until Santiago yells, “Officer on deck!” Not quite in unison, we shift to salute. My good samaritan accidentally brushes my right shoulder with his hand. A not wholly unwelcome tingle shivers down my arm. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“At ease, everyone,” Uncle Kaidan responds after returning the salute.

The girl in front of me clasps her hands at the base of her back, and I follow suit, knocking elbows with the person to the left of me. He glares at me then returns his eyes forward. The guy behind me exhales a breath of laughter, and I roll my lips to, again, keep from smiling. The idea that my good samaritan could potentially be a friend, or at least an ally, makes me strangely giddy.

Uncle Kaidan comes into my line of vision, standing dead center of the two divisions. “I’m Major General Alenko. Some of you were recruited to this program, some of you actively sought out this training knowing it will fast track you to the N7 program, but I doubt any of you understand the significance of this program.”

He paces deliberately in front of us, the soft click of his shoes tap out the cadence to his speech. “Over twenty years ago, I started training promising biotics to be silent weapons for the Alliance. They became infiltration teams that would, if successful, never be recognized to have ever existed. That is not what this program is. This program is so much more. All of you are here today, not just for your biotics, but because you have something that this universe needs. Wits. Intelligence. Natural leadership.”

He stops and crosses his arms over his chest, the light catching and refracting off of his collection of medals. “It’s been over twenty years since the first human spectre was named. Do you know how many human spectres there are now?”

No one speaks, but we all know the answer.

“Two,” he retorts. “In twenty years, the council has only seen fit to name two humans, Captain Shepard and myself. The turians, asari, and salarians all have special programs designed to train future Spectres, and as of three years ago, so does the Alliance. The council gives me leave every year not to train future N7s. I’m here to train spectres.”

Everything inside me free falls. I wanted to follow in my mother’s footsteps, but I wasn’t prepared to do it so literally.

“Chief Santiago and Gunnery Sergeant Romera left far more interesting posts to be your RDCs” he motions at the people in question. “Like you, they were handpicked to be here because they understand we’re here to train leaders, not followers. For the next nine weeks, it’s their job to push you beyond your limits. Very few of you will make it all the way through. This program has the highest dropout rate, exceeding even the N7s. If any of you want to quit now, the door is right there.”

We’re quiet, waiting for anyone to walk out the door. My heart rattles in my ears. _Am I ready for this? Do I want this?_ I imagine what my parents will think. My father will shake his head, attempting to hide his fear with humor, and lament, “like mother, like daughter” or “because your mother wasn’t stressful enough.” My mother will smile up at me and tell me how proud she is, likely right before she storms off to find my uncle and unceremoniously punch him in the face for enlisting her daughter.

I look around the room and realize these recruits have no idea what they’re getting themselves into. They only know the exciting tales of my mother saving the universe. They’ve heard how spectres answer to no one but the council and get to play by their own rules. They don’t understand the danger, the loneliness, and the lives that rest in your hands every day. And yet, knowing what I do, I stay rooted to my spot. Destiny is a word thrown around a lot. We look at our lives as they are and think, _I’m not supposed to be here. I’m destined for much greater things._ But really, destiny is something that shows up as opportunities. It is our job to recognize and seize it. This moment is mine.

“All of you think you have what it takes?” My uncle continues when no one leaves. “We’ll see. Assuming you make it through, you will then be assigned to an N7 for live combat training. You will shadow them in whatever they do and wherever they go. It will be up to them to decide if you will continue on to N7 training. After that, it’s up to you to impress the council.” He turns towards our RDCs, “Chief and Gunnery Sergeant, I leave them in your capable hands. Try not to break them on the first day.”

Chief Santiago smiles. “No guarantees, General.”

The three of them walk off to the side to speak privately for a moment, leaving us to stand and soak in what we really signed up for.

“I’m Lee,” is whispered from behind me.

“Vakarian,” I whisper back to him.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Shut up,” the guy I elbowed earlier hisses through his teeth.

“Sorry,” I whisper back, and he shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

It takes a moment for it to hit me, but when it does, it’s a rather exhilarating realization. My uncle is the only person here that knows who I am. I don’t know how or why, but no one here seems to know I’m Captain Shepard’s daughter. I’m still a hybrid freak, but at least I’m not a famous hybrid freak. By the time my uncle, Chief Santiago, and Gunnery Sergeant Romera are finished, I’ve psyched myself up for this. I’m ready to not only make it through but to be the best. How ironic it would be for the next “human” spectre to be a human/turian hybrid.

“Recruits,” Gunnery Sergeant Romera shouts once my uncle has left the room, “I hope you enjoyed your P week, because the babying ends now.”

Chief Santiago continues, “We’re going to start with seeing what you know. This means sparring, and since this is a collaborative program, we’ll pair you off, navy recruits versus marine recruits. Please try not to embarrass yourselves.”

“When you hear your names, come to the front. When you are assigned a partner, grab a mat,” the Gunnery Sergeant directs. “Do not start until we tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Gunnery Sergeant!” we shout in unison.

One by one, recruits are paired off and sent to retrieve their mats. There seems to be no order to their pairings, just random names shouted from a list. When Lee is called, he whispers good luck to me before walking to the front. I only see bits of his appearance out of my peripheral vision. He’s taller than I thought. Broad shoulders, long limbed. His head is shaved, standard for male recruits, but of what I can tell from the stubble, he has black hair. I don’t catch his face before he walks away with his sparring partner.

Neota’s smug smile flashes in my brain, and I can already hear her excited giggle when I mention Lee to her, because of course, I’m going to tell her about him.

“He’s just a friend,” I’ll tell her.

“For now,” she’ll sing.

“Neota, I’m not here for that.” I’ll reason, but it won’t matter. She’ll build an elaborate tale in her mind, requiring every detail I know, and I’ll only half put up a fight. Part me likes seeing myself the way Neota sees me. As an asari, it’s normal for one parent to be asari and one parent to be of another species. She knows that people don’t look at hybrids the same way as they view asari, but she refuses to see me any different than herself.

Lost in my imaginary conversation with Neota, I almost miss my name being called. With chin up and shoulders back, I walk to the front, mentally preparing for whatever my partner will throw at me, physically as well as figuratively.

“Says here you’re a Grissom Academy graduate,” Chief Santiago reads off her data pad. “What luck, Romera you have a Grissom grad, right?”

“I do. This should be a show. Why don’t you show them how it’s done, Grissom grad?” He scans his data pad. “Rozar, you’re paired off with Vakarian.”

All the blood drains from my head. _This can’t be happening. No one has this bad of luck._ But apparently, I do, because marching to the front is, in fact, Jonah Rozar.

He glares at me, his pale blue eyes and blonde brows pulled into an angry scowl. “This is un-fucking-believable,” he sneers once in ear shot of me, as if I intentionally followed him here.

“Problem, Rozar?” Gunnery Sergeant Romera challenges.

“No, Gunnery Sergeant,” Jonah barks out.

“Then quit jaw jacking and grab a mat.”

While we reach to pull a mat from the pile, Jonah scoffs, “Personally recruited by Major General Alenko, huh? More like mommy called in a favor, or was she all out of favors and had to give some to get some? Must have been a nice break from screwing a bird.”

Years of hate surges through me, and I can feel my biotics responding to the dams of my restraint cracking. The energy pulses just under my skin, but instead of pushing it down like normal, I ride the currents. I look into his eyes, a smirk on my lips, and whisper, “This isn’t Grissom anymore. You have no idea what I’m capable off, but you will. The gloves are off, Jonah, and I will END you.”

Fear dances across his eyes before determination pulls them to slits. “You’re on, Vakarian. No mommy to save you now.”

We practically throw the mat to the ground; both of us have fingers grip worth of restraint on our biotics. This has been a long time coming.

“Looks like the Grissom Grads are ready to go,” Chief Santiago taunts. “Why don’t we see what the famed academy teaches their students?”

I know everyone is looking at us now, but I can’t see anyone past my own rage. This day has been nothing but an emotional roller coaster, and I’m ready to take it out on Jonah’s smug face. I’m going to make him eat every slighted word he’s ever said about me or my family.

Chief Santiago is giving more instructions, but I can barely hear over the roaring in my ears. “Do you understand?” she finishes.

“I understand,” we both mutter, neither of us losing eye contact with the other.

“Alight then, show us what you got.”

Her words are barely out before I throw Jonah across the room. The mats are meaningless in this match; there is no way we’re staying in such a confined space. He skids across the polished floor and slams into the tempered glass window. He’s quickly back to his feet, and I throw up a biotic shield just in time to catch his warp.

“This is a friendly match,” the Gunnery Sergeant reminds us. “Keep it civil.”

My heart thunders in my chest, pumping fury through my veins. This will not be friendly. This will not be civil. This will only end with blood.

With my barriers disabled from the warp, he tries a wide shockwave to knock me down, but I easily cancel it with one of my own. His shockwave, however, has opened a clear line of sight, and I lift him towards the ceiling. Realizing what I’m going to do, Jonah throws up his own barriers right before I slam him into the floor. Though protected from the brunt of the blow, he still bounces hard and is left gasping for air. I sprint towards him, my fists glowing with biotic energy. Both RDCs are shouting now, but I don’t hear them. All I can hear is the sweet crack of his nose breaking under my fist. Blood gushes from his nostrils, and his face is instantly disfigured from the swelling.

I only begin to come to my senses when Gunnery Sergeant Romera physically lifts me off of Jonah. “What the hell is wrong with you, Vakarian?” he shouts in my ear.

And as quickly as it came, the blood fury is gone, and the world comes back in sharp focus. The other recruits stare at me no longer with disgust or resentment, but with open fear. The large auditorium is silent short of Jonah’s choking gasps for breath. Shame makes my body run limp, and the Gunnery Sergeant lets me go. No longer running on biotic adrenaline, I shiver against the cold tremors running down my limbs. Needing to hold onto something, I pull my sleeves down my hands and grip tightly to the cuffs.

Chief Santiago helps Jonah to his feet, showing him where to pinch the bridge of his nose to reduce the bleeding.

“I’ll walk him to Tranquility,” the Gunnery Sergeant says, taking over for the Chief. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full with that one.”

When Jonah walks past me, he spits at me, his bloodied saliva pooling at my feet. “This isn’t over, Vakarian.” He says my name as a sneer, reminding me he knows exactly who I am.

“Recruit, you must be dumber than you look,” the Gunnery Sergeant chastises. “She already kicked your ass once. You keep doing stupid shit like that, and I won’t pull her off the next time.”

A weak smile plays across my lips, but quickly fades when I get any eyeful of the storming Chief Santiago.

“I don’t know what the hell that was, but it ends now.” Her words crack like thunder against the glass walls. She plants one fist on her hip while the other points up in my face. “Of all the…you know what? No. I’m not doing this now. Vakarian, park your ass against that wall and don’t even think about moving. I’ll deal with you when we’re done here.”

I slog over to the wall. As I slide down its length to the floor, I realize I could be thrown out of the Alliance for this, and it wouldn’t just be my failure, because nothing I do is just me. I’m Captain Shepard and Executor Vakarian’s daughter. I’m Councilwoman Shepard’s granddaughter. I’m the first hybrid to be accepted to the Alliance, and because of today, I may be the last. It’s easy for me to blame Jonah, but as per usual, my mother is right. Violence shouldn’t be my first answer; it should be my last resort. If Jonah gets kicked out, it’s just him. He’ll go off and do something else. But because I let him get to me, I’ve stained myself, my family, and all hybrids.

“You can thank Vakarian and Rozar for their fantastic demonstration on what not to do in today’s exercise. But don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll all have plenty of time to come up with how to thank them when you’re helping them scrub this room back to a spotless shine.” Chief Santiago announces to surprised gasps. “That’s right recruits. You’re all in this together. One of you screws up, you all suffer for it. Now, on your feet, and listen carefully to my directions, because I will not repeat them.”

I look up, guilt slithering through my gut, because I immediately catch Lee’s gaze. Even though this is the first time I’ve caught a full glimpse of his face, I know it’s him. He doesn’t look mad, not like the others. His brows, like black smudged comas, pull down over his almond eyes in what can only be interpreted as disappointment. I think of what I vowed mere minutes before, mentally challenging everyone that I would give them a real reason to hate me. I can’t say I’m not a person of my word, even the ones that I only spout in my head. And with that, I close my eyes and beg the spirits to let this horrible day end.


	10. Chapter 10

**Shepard  
January 2187**

I lean back in my chair looking up at my collection of model ships. I’ve spent the morning reading reports in my cabin and none of them contained good news. Through combined efforts and nearly what was left of our eezo reserves, Cortez got the Kodiak up and flying, if only for short bursts of time. He and Joker have spent the past three weeks meticulously scanning the planet looking for any eezo deposits and have yet to find any.

“What are you planning to wear?” Tali inquires regarding my wedding. Since she now has options about her attire, she has grown increasingly fascinated with clothes.

“My dress blues, probably,” I respond, only half listening. _Maybe we can find some other fuel source outside of eezo._

“You can’t wear that! It’s your wedding, not a military inquiry.” She braces her bare hands on her hips. “Even quarians have special attire we wear over our suits for weddings.”

“Well, it’s not like I have a lot of options. I have my denims, my dress blues, and my black dress. I don’t think little black dress really works for the bride.” I massage between my brows. _Humans started exploring space long before we discovered eezo. Granted we didn’t leave our solar system…_

“You could borrow one of my gowns,” Liara suggests. “Humans tend to prefer white for their wedding gowns, correct? I believe I have something that might work.”

“That would be great. Thanks, Liara.” Tension builds behind my eyes, the beginnings to a nasty migraine.

“Now, have you decided on a date yet?” Traynor follows up. “I suggest Valentine’s day.”

“Isn’t that the holiday that celebrates two brutally murdered priests?” Liara questions, squinting in scholastic curiosity.

“It’s also considered the day to celebrate love, and a day that most of the crew will be thinking of loved ones they’re far away from and worried may never see again,” Traynor reasons. “A wedding would be an excellent distraction, plus it gives us all something to look forward to for the next month. What do you think, Commander?”

“Hmm?” I finally turn my gaze to Traynor, Liara, and Tali. “I’m sorry, I missed the question.”

“Your wedding? Valentine’s Day?” She gently repeats. “I take it still no good news from Cortez and Joker.”

“Of all the planets to be stranded on, we land on the one that has zero fuel sources.” I sigh, finger combing my hair. This time I try to give them my full focus. “I’ll talk to Garrus about it, but I imagine Valentine’s Day is good as any other day.”

“Good. I think the crew could use something to celebrate.” Traynor smiles.

“Now, you can’t all have come up here just to talk about wedding plans,” I joke.

“No, we have well…not quite good news, but…” Liara starts.

“But it isn’t bad news,” Tali interrupts.

“Okay…So you have news?” I have no idea where this is headed, but I doubt it’s going to help the growing ball of stress that has permanently lodged itself in my stomach. Grabbing the bottle from my desk, I pop my last two antacids. _Need to ask Dr. Chakwas for another bottle._

Traynor rolls her eyes at the other two. “The three of us have been discussing what to do if Joker and Cortez are unable to find anymore eezo.”

“And?”

“Well, we have another emergency beacon, like the ones we launched into orbit right after the crash.”

“Which no one will pick up unless they’re already in this system,” I add.

“Yes, well, maybe not.”

“I don’t follow. Can we boost the signal?”

“No,” Tali answers, “but we can modify another emergency beacon with a very small propulsion engine. Using the last of our eezo reserves, it should be enough to get it into space and on a trajectory for the next nearest system. Possibly go as far as the Sol system.”

“That’s great news,” I exclaim, bouncing forward in my chair.

All three exchange worried looks.

“Why is this not good news?”

Liara decides to answer. “To ensure the beacon will make it to another system, it will have to operate at as minimal power as possible. This means only using thrusters to avoid obstacles and to stay on course.”

“How long before it could reach the Sol system?”

“By our calculations, anywhere from four to seven sol years.” Traynor replies, crossing her arms and looking down at the floor.

“That long?” The relief I felt only a second ago free falls back into the stress ball living in my gut.

“And,” Tali continues, “like we said, it would take all of our reserved eezo, which means stopping Cortez and Joker from continuing their scans of the planet.”

“How sure are you that this beacon will make it?”

“Very sure, Commander,” Traynor responds, “whether the Alliance will be in any shape to rescue us is another matter entirely.”

“I’d hope five years from now they will have scraped enough together to be able to travel at FTL speeds.” I look directly at Tali. “Can we survive that long?”

She wrings her hands. “James…I mean Lieutenant Vega has helped me build a greenhouse for the plants I collected. Assuming nothing goes wrong, there should be enough vegetation to feed both Garrus and me. I can survive solely on what I pick from the garden, which should allow Garrus to stretch the protein rations for up to a year before requiring changing to a fully vegetarian diet.”

“And after that?”

“There will be a lot of beans in Garrus’ future.”

I laugh. “I’m sure he’s going to love that.”

“We’ll survive, Shepard.”

I nod before leaning over and bracing both elbows on my desk. “So it’s between an almost guarantee of rescue five years from now versus the chance, though growing more slim by the second, to find our own fuel source to get off this rock in a fraction of the time.”

“We could still search on foot,” Liara adds.

“And there is still a chance of fixing the Normandy’s scanners,” Traynor adds.

“As long as we can get enough power to run them, even if they’re fixed,” Tali grumbles.

“Is there a way to boost the Kodiak’s scanners so they can keep scanning from here? Maybe if we don’t have to waste the power flying…” My sentence trails off, because all three of their faces show nothing but helpless pity. They want to give me better solutions, but this is the best answer they have.

“Sorry, Commander,” Traynor answers. “The Kodiak wasn’t designed to scan a whole planet.”

Liara touches Tali and Traynor on the shoulder. “We should give the Commander time to think.”

“Right,” Tali stutters out. “Maybe Joker and Cortez will come back with good news.”

“Do it.” My throat constricts, and it’s hard to swallow. I look back up at my collection, unable to look any of them in the eye. “One more day of waiting won’t change the facts, and it will just be one more day we wait to be rescued.”

“Understood, Commander,” Traynor answers, her voice barely heard over the whirling of my fish tank.

~*~

I don’t know how long I spend looking but not seeing what’s in front of me. I’m surprised to find a data pad in my hand when my door dings announcing someone outside. “Come in.”

Garrus enters my cabin with what appears to be lunch. He gives a pointed look at the empty antacid bottle on my desk and lifts the tray invitingly. “Why don’t you give your stomach something else to chew on?” Not waiting for me to respond, he continues down the steps that separate my office and lounge area and sets the tray down on the black slab I call a coffee table.

Putting the data pad down on the collective stack, I spin my chair out, take three quick breaths, and using the edge of my desk, haul myself upright. A familiar twinge hits me through both knees, and I grip the edge of the desk hard to keep from toppling over. Garrus’ head snaps up at the commotion. His hands clinch tight and the plates of his brows pucker at the center, but he makes no move to help me. 

I wave to indicate I’m alright, which elicits a clenching of his jaw to match his stern brow. My walking stick sits discarded against the wall near the bed where I left it a week ago, something Garrus and I didn’t particularly agree on. Once sure I’m steady on my feet, I begin the slow progress down the stairs. Without something to lean against, it’s harder to lift each foot and not fall over, so I’m more shuffling than walking.

Garrus holds out his hand to me once I’m near, and his expression softens when my hands are firmly clasped within his. With his assistance, I’m able to waddle around the table and sit down to lunch, which consists of some type of mixed salad, a wedge of what seems to be melon, and an unknown pheasant. My stomach twists at the sight of the leafy greens. Despite now being fully immunized, I can’t help recalling the unpleasant queasiness and indigestion that came from the first few attempts at its consumption. An oily dressing pools underneath the greens and mixes with whatever the red sauce the pheasant was cooked in.

Garrus leans back against the couch, the leather rustling as he shifts to get comfortable. Propping his left foot on his right knee, he stretches his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing my shoulder. He’s dressed in his blue and gold civies, and the afternoon light shines off of the metallic trim. 

I quirk an eyebrow at him while taking my first bite of the salad. The greens are mildly bitter, the oily substance appearing to be an attempt at vinaigrette, but it goes down with relative ease.

“I ate down in the mess,” he answers my silent inquiry.

I nod and swallow. I take another bite, this time of the mystery bird. It’s well cooked and has a likeness to the taste of something between chicken and duck, more savory than chicken but drier than duck. Absently chewing, I ponder what subject to broach first. Let’s start with good news.

“How do you feel about February 14th for our wedding?” I ask.

His brows lift in mild surprise at the abrupt start of the conversation, but overall, his face relaxes into the contended smile he gets anytime we discuss our future nuptials. “Next month, huh?” He drops his hand from the back of the couch to run his fingers lazily up and down my upper spin. Twinges of pleasure ripple from his fingers, and I arc my back and shoulders similar to a cat enjoying a good scratch. “Sounds fine to me, but are you sure you don’t want to wait? We still might find a way off Normandy.” Garrus and I, after discussing the real conundrum of who would marry us, had flirted with the idea of waiting until we got back to earth.

“Five years is a little long to wait,” I answer wryly and recount my earlier meeting with Traynor, Tali, and Liara.

He lets out a pent up breathe once I’m finished, his mandibles flexing out wide then back against his jaw. His hand skirts up my back to my neck, where he gently squeezes and responds, “February it is.”

I laugh and lean into his hand. “You’re not mad?”

“Shepard, I’m the lucky one on this ship. We’re alive and together. Where we are doesn’t really matter much to me.” Tension in his brow and a subtle shift in his mandibles suggest that he isn’t being completely honest with me, but I let it slide. I, too, worry about home. My mother’s voice trails through my mind, her last words to me clutching at my heart, _“I’m proud of you, honey. So proud.”_ I wonder if she’s still proud, now that she is part synthetic, or does she think the cost was too high to stop the reapers? Does some part of her know that I’m still alive, just as I believe she still is? 

My face must echo my thoughts, because Garrus sits up and slides his gloves off before turning my face to him. His thumb floats along my brow, smoothing the deep tension lines. He then cups my face in both his hands, kisses me between my brows, his mandibles just grazing my cheek, and then gently kisses me on the mouth. His lips are cool against my flushed skin.

I place my hand over his, my engagement ring heavy and warm on my finger, and sigh deeply. He rests his forehead against mine, while his thumb draws soft circles on the tender skin behind my ear. “I promised to get them home,” I whisper, my voice betraying my doubt. 

He breathes in my confession and exhales my absolution. “You will, Shepard. We will get home, and see them again. Your mother. My sister and father…” he swallows, “They’re alive. I feel it. And just imagine their faces when they find out we’re married.”  
Mirth bubbles in my throat. “When did you get so optimistic?”

“Shepard, if I have learned anything these past few years, it is to never underestimate what you can do when you set your mind to something,” he chuckles, “and to never stand in your way when you do.”

This elicits another snort.

“Now, turn around,” he whispers with a smile.

I raise one brow at him dubiously, before I pull away and face my back to him.

Brushing my hair aside, his fingers grip my shoulders while his large thumbs run along my neck, kneading away at the painful knots. I don’t even try to stop the purr of pleasure that escapes my lips. 

My chin falls to my chest and a bead of sweat trickles down the side of my face. To reserve power, only engineering is still temperature controlled, and my cabin feels like a sweat box, baking in the tropic sun. The Normandy was not meant to stay on land for long, and the metallic hull feels like it soaks up every errant beam of the long, warm days. I weigh for what feels like the millionth time, the pros and cons of breaking the skylight above my bed. Pro: air. Con: Any wildlife getting into my cabin. Visions of waking up with snakes or worse beside me save the skylight for another day.

“Now, I don’t think everyone will be as nonchalant about it,” Garrus continues, unaware of the internal battle with me and the skylight, as he works at a particularly large knot in my left shoulder, “but I’m sure they’ll understand.”

As if on cue, Kaidan barges in without any form of greeting, “You can’t be serious!” 

“I see you’ve heard the good news,” Garrus chimes. He stops rubbing my back, instead lightly resting his hands on my shoulders.

“Shut it, Vakarian.” Kaidan glowers down at me, his face puce with outrage.

Sitting at my desk, I wondered how I would break the news to Kaidan. I would try to be compassionate and gentle, explaining that I was sorry but I had to choose the sure thing. Now looking at him, his rage setting fire to my own guilt, compassion is the last thing on my mind. “Watch your tone, Major.” The ice in my voice seems to surprise both Kaidan and Garrus, but Kaidan recovers quickly, his brown eyes turning to slits. 

He stands up tall, emphasizing his advantage over my sitting position. “My apologies,” he sneers. “You can’t be serious, Ma’am.”

“Sit down, Major.” I motion to the chair opposite me. Garrus removes his hands from my shoulders, and I shift so that I sit at a perfect 90 degree angle.

“I’d rather stand.”

I jut out my chin and meet his scowl with one of my own. “That wasn’t a request.”

He sits. A tick flexes in his cheek where his jaw clenches and releases, but he remains silent.

Some of my own ire eases, and I release my gaze from his. With a heavy sigh, I run my fingers along what I fear is a permanent crease between my brows. Garrus opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it and closes it again. 

“Shepard, just because we haven’t found it yet, doesn’t mean there isn’t eezo on this planet.” Kaidan looks at Garrus for support, and then thinking better of it, focuses back on me.

“Kaidan,” I look him straight in the eye. His brows rise in mock surprise at his first name, while his mouth pinches at a stubborn angle. I continue, “Do you think I came to this decision lightly?”

“It’s the wrong call, Shepard,” he answers instead.

“It’s my call, Kaidan.” My voice is surprisingly steady considering the emotions that swirl within me. “You don’t have to like it, but you do have to follow it.”

“You think everyone is going to stand by while you sentence them to five years or more on this planet?” His outrage clips his words as they squeeze out through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” I answer simply.

That surprises him, and his eyes shift from side to side. I can see the wheels turn as he mentally sifts through ways he might change my mind, and then when the list is exhausted, he deflates-- his anger dissolving into misery.

“I promised all of you I would get you home, and this is the way I can guarantee to honor that promise,” I say gently. “Don’t you see, Kaidan? I can’t risk using all of our resources and have nothing to show for it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Kaidan responds with a halfhearted smile. He droops in his chair, his hands resting limp in his lap. “I’ve never thought of you as a ‘wait to be rescued’ kind of woman.”

Garrus sorts at this and tries to cover it with a cough, but Kaidan and I both smirk.

I groan and fall back against the couch, both my hands knotted into my hair. “Trust me, I feel itchy just thinking about it,” I say to the ceiling of my cabin. This elicits more chuckling from Kaidan and Garrus. I turn my head so Kaidan is again in view. “Look, this doesn’t mean I’ve given up searching for eezo on this planet, we just have to come up with another way to search. And Traynor still might get communication up and running so that we don’t have to wait five years to hear from the Alliance. The beacon is just an insurance policy. In case all else fails, we will still be rescued.”

Kaidan nods before sinking his head into his hands, his thick, dark hair sticking out in tuffs between his fingers. “This is going to be a long five years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all.
> 
> So a lot has happened over the past few months, one being, I'm now gainfully employed! Which is great news, because I like steady income, and bad news, because I now have a 40 hour work week on top of freelance work. Anywho, I've had this partially done chapter for about 2 months now and I decided I'd post it. I'm going to keep working on part 2, but hey, it's an update...even if it's a short one. I'll find time to write...don't know when yet, but I'll find it. Thank you everyone that is still reading, and I promise to keep writing.
> 
> Update:  
> Yay, I finished chapter 10! Sorry for the sporadic updates, but I promise to keep posting and working on this. I hope you enjoy.


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